


evermore

by omfgdany



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Knight and King AU, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Original Characters - Freeform, a lot of original characters lol, dreamnotfound, dreamnotfound knight and king au, i dont know how use tags lol, villian technoblade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28754424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omfgdany/pseuds/omfgdany
Summary: A prince was born to an ailing mother and a satisfied father in the middle of autumn. They named him George, modest yet imposing. It’s Greek for farmer. He would rule his kingdom someday with grace and elegance. That’s what he was told, anyway.His mother, the queen, named Rosemary loves her son with everything in her. Wishing for him to have a good and normal life, despite his status. Rosemary is a sickly woman, who was nearly on her deathbed after her son’s tiresome birth.The king, her husband, and father of her child tells her not to coddle him, that it will make the upcoming king weak. Rosemary ignores her husband, rocking her son to sleep every night and holding him every time he cries.“My son.” She speaks with a smile, whipping his tears away, “You will be the greatest king ever known. You will be strong, you will be brave, you will be smart, you will be noble. I promise.”
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 56





	1. when two worlds collide

**Author's Note:**

> fair warning: George does not actually mean farmer in Greek that is misinformation that I got online (never trust the internet kids lol). Agrótis is 'farmer' in Greek, thank @welpimded for informing me of this mistake :) (his name meaning farmer in greek is kinda important to the story too lmao) 
> 
> I LOVE RESPECTFUL CRITICISM! LIKE SO MUCH! PLEASE GIVE CRITICISM! I WANT TO BE A BETTER WRITER! (rude comments will be deleted tho)  
> PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ANY OF MY TYPOS! I AM DYSLEXIC AND BAD AT THE EDITING PROCESS!! :D 
> 
> also for the best experience, listen to evermore (album & song) by Taylor swift before or during reading :) the story is highkey based on the entire evermore album but the song evermore is my fave and i listened to it on loop while writing most of this lol

A prince was born to an ailing mother and a satisfied father in the middle of autumn. They named him George, modest yet imposing. It’s Greek for farmer. He would rule his kingdom someday with grace and elegance. That’s what he was told, anyway. 

His mother, the queen, named Rosemary loves her son with everything in her. Wishing for him to have a good and normal life, despite his status. Rosemary is a sickly woman, who was nearly on her deathbed after her son’s tiresome birth. 

The king, her husband, and father of her child tells her not to coddle him, that it will make the upcoming king weak. Rosemary ignores her husband, rocking her son to sleep every night and holding him every time he cries. 

“My son.” She speaks with a smile, whipping his tears away, “You will be the greatest king ever known. You will be strong, you will be brave, you will be smart, you will be noble. I promise.” 

The prince was raised in seclusion, the only other child his age who he got to interact with was his first cousin Wilbur, a noble who is the same age as the prince. He and his cousin grew quite close over the years, they only had each other...that is until today. 

This day wasn’t quite warm, but not quite cold either. Leaves of trees had faded into shades of warm golds. The air smells like nighttime, even with the sun high in the sky, it also smells of bread from the castle bakery. 

Prince George noticed that his boot was untied as he ran after his cousin, who stands taller and wider than him. They were playing with the toys George had gotten for his tenth birthday, snow would be falling any day now. 

“Hold on,” George spoke with a calm but loud voice, leaning down on the cold grass to tie his boot. 

“Hurry up, Georgie.” Wilbur teased, “We only have so long before the little ones get here.” 

George’s father, King Johnathan has a younger brother and two younger sisters. Philip, the king’s younger brother is Wilbur’s father, and not even a year younger than the king. King Johnathan and Philip have younger sisters, two exactly, Charlotte and Kathrine, who recently had sons of their own. Tobias was born first in the dead of winter four years ago, and Thomas, born in the spring right after. The two boys are being raised together, much like George and Wilbur. Today, though, Tobias and Thomas are visiting with their older cousins. 

“I know, Will. How old are they again?” George asked the question as a means of buying time so that he can have more time to situate his boots. 

“Tobias is turning four soon,” Wilbur answered, looking into the trees of the forest. “Do you think anyone else is in these woods?”

“No, it’s property of the royal family. No one would be dumb enough to come into these woods without permission. Now, are you ready for me to whoop your butt?” 

“I’d like to see you try.” Wilbur taunted back, cockiness laced in his voice. George stood up and went running after the taller boy, but something to his right caught his attention, he turned to look at it and saw two boys, both taller than George sitting in a tree staring at him. 

“Will.” George felt the burning flame of panic in his chest, wanting to turn and run away from the strangers. Wilbur approached George and followed his eyes to the two boys. 

Wilbur didn’t seem to react, but he sees them, clear as day. One is blonde, and the other is brunette. Wilbur huffed and pulled out a knife from the holder in his belt, “You’re not allowed to be here! This is castle property!” 

The brunette laughed, looking at his friend, who lacked a reaction. “Then why are you two here?”

“You don’t recognize him?” Wilbur asked, gesturing to his cousin. 

“Will.” George groaned. 

“This is the crowned prince!” 

The blonde one laughed this time, “Oh yeah? Prove it!” The two boys jumped down from the tree, “Your highness.” 

George wanted to hightail it and run back to his home, shout for his nanny, and get tucked into bed...but everyone already thinks of him as a wimp. His father thinks of him as a wimp. Telling his mother that George isn’t tall enough, that he’s too skinny, he doesn’t run very fast and he’s not good with a sword. 

“Prove it? You think I’m lying?” Wilbur demanded to know, still holding the small knife in his hand. 

The blonde scoffed and looked at the brunette, who with a swift movement of his leg, knocked Wilbur onto his back, the knife going flying across the forest floor. 

“Hey!” Wilbur shouted, sitting up. 

“Sorry friend, we couldn’t risk you getting yourself, or the prince here hurt.” The brunette mocked. 

“You don’t believe that I’m the prince?” George finally questioned, looking at the blonde, noticing the blonde’s eyes are a strange color. George doesn’t see color correctly, he figured that out when he was about eight-years-old...but whatever color he does see right now is very intriguing. 

“Why would we?” The blonde asked him with a casual tone. 

“Do you want me to prove it?” George watched Wilbur stand up, grabbing his knife again but putting it away. “I can, we can go to the castle, but you guys aren’t allowed to go inside, and my father can’t catch you,” George spoke clearly but softly. 

The two boys glanced at each other, “My name is Clay, but I got a nickname.” The blonde said, fidgeting with his yellow shirt. “Everyone back home calls me Dream.” 

“Everyone calls me Technoblade.”

“Technoblade?”

“Sounds stupid when you say it like that.” The brunette said with an eye roll. 

Wilbur set his eyes on George, who was looking between the two strangers. It was obvious that the two boys are a year or two younger than the other two. 

“So are we going to see this castle of yours or are you just a liar?” Dream asked, obviously joking. “You two could come with us, we’re going back to the orphanage we live in.” 

Wilbur made a face of confusion, “We’re not orphans...we can go to the castle.” Wilbur agreed, fidgeting with his curly hair. 

The four boys slowly began to walk through the autumn forest, kicking leaves around with their boots and listening to calls of birds who are preparing to fly away for the cold winter months. Dream and Technoblade continuously pushed each other around with playful intent, shouting nonsense about how something isn’t fair and not to be so mean. 

“Hush, if you two get caught here you could get in serious trouble,” Wilbur said to them as the castle came into sight. “Nanny Beth probably won’t care, but Nanny Bronwyn will be really angry if she knows we brought strangers to the castle.” 

Technoblade and Dream exchanged glances and nodded at Wilbur, falling quiet and walking closely behind George. 

George noticed that Dream’s boots are about to fall off his feet, and Techno’s pants are torn up. He couldn’t stop staring at their pale skin he could see through the holes of their clothing and took notice of their many bruises and scratches. They’re obviously unsupervised children, who probably get into a lot more trouble than they would care to admit to. 

Wilbur and George noticed Nanny Beth sitting right where they left her, on a blanket patching up a hole in a dress she likes to wear. “Beth.” George approached, “Is it okay if we all go play in my bedroom?” He asked with a stern tone and straightened posture. Trying to mimic his father, and how he speaks to nannies. 

Beth, a young woman with uncut ginger hair smiled at the prince. “I see you made some friends.” She observed the two boys, who are a bit younger than the prince and noble. “I don’t see why not, as long as you don’t get caught.” 

George smiled broadly, “Thank you, Beth.”

Suddenly, the ginger woman grabbed the prince’s hand, “Hold on now, you know that your aunts will be here soon with the little ones and your father will be looking for you. Be careful, Georgie.” Beth warned, “Stay out of trouble.” 

“We will. I promise.” George said as he walked past Beth, putting his hand in her hair as he walked by. Beth has been George’s nanny most of his life, she was fourteen when he was born and had a heavy hand in taking care of him while his mother was on bed rest after his birth. The queen had a hard time with her health the first year of her son’s life and all of her midwives determined that getting pregnant and giving birth again would likely kill her. 

The four boys quietly and quickly made their way through the castle, finally arriving at Geroge’s bedroom. A large room that has the biggest bed Dream and Technoblade had ever seen. There’s a wall of bookshelves, with a fireplace, and hundreds of toys scattered around the bedroom. 

“You are the prince.” Dream muttered as he looked around the navy blue and silver-colored bedroom. “You’re the prince of Flora.” 

George smiled, “The one and only.” He whispered, “Um, Dream?”

“Yes?” Dream responded, looking at the prince with eyes full of wonder. 

George dropped his gaze onto Dream’s feet, “Do you need new boots?”

Dream looked at his feet, a confused look on his face. “You’ll give me boots?”

George smiled and nodded, approaching a white door, opening it to a large room filled with clothing and shoes. “I have so many, let’s find you a pair that will fit, and...Technoblade?”

“Prince George?” Technoblade entered the closet behind George. 

“I’ll give you new pants.” 

“Are you sure?” Technoblade asked. 

“Of course, I have more pants than I know what to do with.” 

Technoblade and Dream exchanged a glance and smiled at each other...they truly have befriended the Prince of Flora. 

~

The cold winter is when George began to grow close with the boys. Wilbur left back to his home for the winter, like every winter. 

Most days, Dream came to the forest of the castle by himself, dressed in warm clothing with a red wool scarf. George and Dream played like little kids every day, making snowmen and having snowball fights. One time Dream shoved a handful of snow into George’s face, which George thought was hilarious. He laughed about it for five minutes afterwords. His cousin, Wilbur doesn’t play rough with Geroge, no one does. Fear of hurting him. Dream doesn’t have this fear, George and Dream are equals in their eyes. Just two little boys who like to play in the snow. 

On particularly cold days, the boys would sneak into the castle when they got too cold and curl into George’s big bed to warm up. Sometimes Beth would provide them with hot drinks and sweet food. Dream likes Beth. 

“Catch me if you can!” Dream shouted, taking George’s hat off his head and running deeper into the forest. 

“Dream! Not fair! You’re faster than me!” George ran after the blonde boy, laughing loudly and almost falling over himself. 

George was able to catch up with Dream, throwing himself around the other boy to tackle him to the ground. They laughed, Dream gently putting Geroge’s hat back on his head. They breathed heavily as they laid in the cold snow. 

“You know, Georgie?”

“What?”

“You’re my best friend.” Dream’s smile is bright, like the sun. 

“I am?” George rolled over onto his side to face Dream, who was looking at the sky above them. 

Dream nodded and looked over at George, “Yeah, I expected you to be a dickhead when I learned you were the prince.” Dream licked his lips, “But you’re not. You’re nice and smart. Funny too, sometimes.”

George rolled his eyes with a chuckle, “We can’t all be as funny as you, Dreamie Boy.”

Dream laughed quietly, “You know, I use to think that the royals, you and Wilbur and your parents and whoever...I used to think you were all dickheads, and that you wouldn’t ever give us, the poor people and orphans of this world the time of day...but you’re different George. Wilbur too, even though he can be a bit of a prick sometimes.”

George laughed, “That’s just how he is, it’s not you.”

“I know. I just...I guess what I’m trying to get at is...Thank you, Georgie. You’re great.”

George smiled, “You too, Clay.”

~

After this day, George continued his friendship with the two orphans with strange nicknames. After the long winter, in the springtime, Dream and Technoblade begged Prince George to come with them to the orphanage. The Orphanage Mother, a woman named Annalise would be gone to the market for the day and the other children would love to meet the prince. 

George followed them through the blooming forest, they arrived at a large stone brick house near a river. An older boy, around the same age maybe a little older than George sat on a blanket with a toddler in his lap. 

“Bad!” Dream called, “I introduce you to...Prince George!” Dream bowed to George as he introduced him. 

George scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Don’t be an idiot, Dream.” 

“You’re the prince?” A girl only a bit younger than George in a dirty pink dress asked, approaching him. 

George nodded, “I’m Prince George, I live in a castle, my mum is the queen and my father is the king.”

“Brilliant!” 

Bad smiled, “Cara, be a dear, and check on the little ones.” The girl, Cara nodded and ran into the house. Bad frowned once Cara was out of sight, handing the toddler in his arms to Dream, who walked the little boy to a bush of flowers. “So, Prince George?”

Techno and George sat down on the blanket with Bad. “Yes?” George responded. 

“Do you have any princely duties you have to keep up with?”

“Not yet. All of that stuff starts when I turn thirteen-years-old.” 

“Oh, it’s good that you get to be a kid for a while.” 

Dream approached again, the toddler having a slight fit in his arms. “I think he’s due for a nap.”

“He was fighting me earlier, the other little ones are napping right now. He’s always been fussy.”

“Are Sam and Ant gone?” Technoblade asked, George allowed himself to just listen to the other boys. 

Bad didn’t answer for a moment, watching Cara come out of the house, with another girl and a boy following her. “The prince is here? I call bullshit.”

“Nick!” Bad scolded, “Language.” 

The boy, only around six-years-old laughed. “Niki. Let’s play in the river. ” He turned to the other girl, who was wearing pants and a long shirt. 

George observed all of them and their clothing. They’re all dressed in dirty and ripped clothing. There aren’t very many toys that he can see. 

“Take your shoes off before you go in the water.” Bad told them as the two children approached the river. “Anna talks about buying clothing in bulk at the market, but clothing these days is getting quite expensive.” 

Dream glanced at Geroge, who was observing the clothing on his own body. “You know, I have a lot of clothes that I don’t wear...and I’m getting too old to play with toys...I could give you guys some of my old stuff.”

“No, no, please.” Bad put his hands up, “Don’t feel like you have to give us charity.”

“But I’m the prince, isn’t that my job? To provide my people with the things that they need?”

Bad looked at George with wide eyes, “Are you sure? P-Prince George, you don’t have to.”

George smiled, “I know, I don’t feel like I have to. I just...I have the things that you guys don’t that I dont’ use or need anymore. It only makes sense for me to give those things away.” 

Bad fell quiet, looking at the toddler that Dream was holding in his lap. “Can I make a request?”

“Of course.” 

“We need more girl clothes, there are only three girls who live here and there’s only one dress and it’s dirty and old...if it’s possible I would really appreciate nice pretty dresses for them to wear.”

George smiled and nodded, “Tomorrow, I am busy with some stuff my father needs to do, and the day after my cousins are returning. My cousin Wilbur will be able to help me. So um, the day after tomorrow, about midday, are you two,” George looked at Dream and Techno, “willing to help us out?”

“I don’t see why not.” Dream answered. 

George and Wilbur packed clothes and toys into four wooden crates. Wilbur was surprisingly happy to help George out in his mission to give the orphans new clothes and toys. Beth didn’t question George too much when he asked for dresses fit for little girls, but she did raise an eyebrow at him. 

Dream, Techno, and another boy arrived. “This is Ant. He’s here to help us out.” 

“Great,” George introduced himself to the boy called Ant, who was almost starstruck by the prince. 

The five boys carried everything through the woods and to the orphanage where Annalise watched the boys with thankful eyes as they unpacked the crates. George smiled when he saw the three girls in their new dresses playing with their new dolls. 

Annalise grabbed George’s shoulder and pulled him to the side, “Hi, young man.”

“Hello.”

“What’s your name?”

“George.”

“Thank you, George...Thank you.” She hugged the prince, completely ignorant of his status. George hugged her in response. 

George felt so good after that. He knew he was doing something good, something that mattered. He was going to be a good king, he could feel it deep within him. That’s all he’s ever wanted...to be a good king. 

A good king. George’s father is a good king, George’s father wants his son to be a good king. George’s mother tells him every night before bed that he will be a great king. George will be a good king. 

That night, George entered his mother’s bedroom, she was awake, reading a book in a chair by the window. “Mummy!” The ten-year-old called to his mother, approaching her quickly. Beth stood at the door, watching the mother and son. 

“Hi, baby.” She opened her arms for him. George carefully climbed into her chair with her, half sitting in the chair and half in his mother’s lap. “When did you get so big?” She asked, holding him tightly to her chest. 

“I’ll have to get big eventually, mum. I can’t stay little forever.” 

Rosemary smiled, “Not if I have anything to do about it.” She pushed his hair out of his face and looked into his eyes. “Do you want to snuggle close?”

“Yes, please.” She and her son got into her bed, Beth left the room. Rosemary held her son closely, his head on her chest, “Georgie?”

“Yes, mum?”

“Tell me about your day, then I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”

George talked about Dream, going to the orphanage, and giving them their new things. He talked about how excited he is to be king, how he wants to be the best king to ever rule over Flora. After he finished talking about his day, he looked up at his mother and noticed that she was sleeping. 

George felt a tight feeling in his chest and stomach, putting his ear to his chest...he could hear her heart, feel her chest rise and fall slightly as she breathed. Why he feared that he didn’t know. George slowly and carefully got out of his mother’s bed, to not wake her. 

As he approached the door, it opened and Beth stood there with a change of clothes for the prince. “Oh, Prince Georgie?”

“Let’s go to bed, she’s asleep.” He spoke softly, sadness prevalent in his voice. 

Beth put the prince to bed that night, reading him a story until he pretended to fall asleep. After she left, he quietly got out of bed and approached the window, looking at the forest where he and his friends play every day. 

The ten-year-old boy allowed himself to think quietly as he looked out the window at the blooming spring night. 

In three years, at thirteen-years-old George would leave this castle where he would train with his uncle Philip in combat until he is sixteen, where he will return home to where he would be given all the responsibilities of a king, he would spend all day with his father. His father. George can’t remember the last time he even saw his father. Even the day before, he attended a dinner at his father’s request but didn’t even see his father sitting at the table with the prince and all of their guest. 

George doesn’t know who his father is, he knows that he’s the king and that his name is Johnathan...but that’s all. In six years he will have to spend the rest of his life as king, or a stand-in king. Does George actually want that? 

Six years...


	2. the long winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some reason i was having a hard time reading (I'm dyslexic lol) while editing this chapter pls let me know if i missed any errors! I hope you enjoy the second chapter!

Outside of the walls of the grayish-yellowing castle is a chilled air, with the smell of freshwater. Trees are fading from summer greens to autumn warms. The clouds in the sky change their shape, and the blue of the sky has dulled into pale gray. 

There’s a feeling in the air inside of the castle, excitement is bubbling. 

Wilbur’s thirteenth birthday was a big day for everyone in the royal family. He was the oldest child of the new generation, and he was about to be leaving for his Long Winter. George knew that his goodbye would be short, but difficult. Wilbur was his only friend for ten years, the only other child in his life for as long as he is capable of remembering. 

Wilbur is in George’s first memory, the two of them sitting in front of the fireplace. George’s mother, Rosemary sat behind them in a rocking chair telling them a story of a princess and a knight in shining armor. They couldn’t have been older than four. 

George woke up early and ran to where cousin Wilbur and uncle Phil are staying, a large bedroom with two beds and a seating area. He entered the bedroom to see his uncle Phil being dressed by two men and a woman, while Wilbur is sitting in his bed. 

George went unnoticed, waiting patiently for someone in the room to spot him. 

“Are you ready, Will?” Phil asked his son. Looking at the tall brunette boy in the mirror in front of the blonde-ginger man. Uncle Phil is stoic, with a loving and gentle mile. Standing short compared to his older brother, but just as broad shoulders. He’s skilled in survival and combat, an expert in war. 

“I am,” Wilbur answered, quickly turning his head to see who is staring at him from the doorway. His confused expression was erased with a wide smile and wrinkled eyes. 

George giggled, running and jumping onto the large periwinkle colored bed, “Wilby!” 

“Georgie!” The two boys excitedly bounced on Wilbur’s bed. Playfully wrestling as Phil watched with a relaxed gaze. 

“Happy birthday! Are you excited?” 

“If by excited you mean anxious? Then yes, very much so.” Wilbur chuckled lightly. 

“It won’t be bad Will,” Phil spoke gently, approaching his son and nephew. “You’ll be with your ol’ man.” 

“I know, dad, but...I’m gonna miss this.” Wilbur gestured to everything around him. Wilbur and his father spent most of the year living in the castle that George calls home, they go back to their castle in the winter months for reasons that George doesn’t exactly know. But...they would go three years without coming back here. 

It’s a tradition, a ritual, all noble and royal boys do it. George doesn’t know why, but anyone of higher status at age thirteen is sent to what they call Winter Castle, for the “Long Winter” which is called that because they go so far up north that the snow never melts. It’s meant to teach boys discipline and perseverance. They go to Winter Castle and learn everything important about being a man of higher status. Mainly combat, but other things as well...things that George doesn’t know about. 

George fears his long winter more than most do because he’s the Prince. This isn’t about him though, it’s about saying goodbye to Wilbur and Phil before they leave tonight. 

“What’s the day look like?” Wilbur asked his father, getting off from his bed. At only thirteen-years-old, Wilbur stands as tall as his father. Wilbur still had a hold of George’s hand as he stood at the end of his bed, George still sitting down. 

Phil smiled at his son, “We’ll have a normal morning, relaxing before our three-day journey. Tonight, your uncle John is holding a small...gala. There will be food, dancing...girls.” Phil laughed. 

Wilbur rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to catch a girl’s eye then leave her longing for three years.” George felt Wilbur squeeze his fingers, George moved so that he was sitting closer to Wilbur. 

Phil nodded, “Good lad.” He put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I knew I did something right raising you, now you...and Prince George needs to get ready for today.” Phil’s light eyes landed on the prince, who quickly broke the eye contact. 

~

George stood in front of a warped mirror, his mother sat in a chair to his left while his father spoke with the man and two women who dress the prince. Many different fabrics of different colors are being placed in front of and on the prince...his father rarely cares this much about how George looks. Normally only the seamstresses are here to dress him. George didn’t grow anxious until his mother entered the room though. 

Using a cane to walk, Beth helping her every step of the way, the queen sat in a blue and white floral chair next to her son. George smiled at her but said nothing out of anxiety. Rosemary smiled back at her son and focused her attention on her husband. 

There’s always a special type of tension in the air whenever the king and queen are in a room together. It’s not a secret that their marriage is planned and political. They never really loved each other, having taken almost seven years after their wedding night to produce their single child. They were lucky to have a son...and heir to the throne otherwise they would have to spend even longer together. Now though, that their prince is born, healthy, and ready to be king...the two of them rarely have to even acknowledge each other. 

Today though...they don’t have much of a choice. The tense feeling in the air weighs on George heavily, he took in a deep breath and looked at his mother. “George you’ve always looked wonderful in dark blue, let’s add some silver.” She spoke softly, not looking at her son but at her husband. 

“Silver is not a very royal color, my wife,” John spoke with no emotion, holding something George couldn’t see in his hands. 

George sighed, listening to his parents. 

“I understand that Georgie has to keep up appearances, but gold is a king’s color, while silver is for a prince.” Rosemary smiled as she reached over to grab John’s wrist. John glanced at his wife and rolled his eyes, pulling his arm away. 

“Georgie.” John huffed, mocking his wife, “Stop coddling him, you’ll make the boy weaker than he is.” 

“John.” Rosemary snapped, holding tense eye contact with her husband. 

Without any words, the king and queen had a quick, fiery conversation. 

John pulled his eyes away first. “Fine, fine, dress him however you want. I have an affair to attend to.” 

Rosemary sighed and gestured to those who are dressing the prince. “I was thinking about white pants as well.” She spoke softly, lifting a cup of tea off the table next to her to drink. 

Once George was dressed, he felt confident in his clothing and appreciating that his mother got to dress him for this event. He can only hope that the same happens before he leaves for his own long winter. 

Rosemary stood up from her chair, grabbing her son’s hand. George helped his mother keep her balance as she stepped to stand closer to him. The two of them looked at each other in the mirror. “Georgie?”

George’s mother wears a pale yellow nightgown that covers most of her body other than her neck, head, and hands. George reaches over and pushes some of her light brunette hair out of her face and behind her ear. 

“Mummy?” He responds after plainly looking at the two of them silently for a long second. 

Rosemary hesitated to speak, looking at herself and her son. “Be a dear?” He helped his mother walk to her bedroom. Helping her into her large lavender-colored bed and asking Beth to make some tea. “Sit.” 

George sat next to his mother, holding her hand in his own. “Mum, I’m not far away from leaving myself...will you be all right?” He could see just from the lack of color in her brown eyes that being out of bed for as long as she was taking a toll on her energy. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me, love. Mummy will be okay, I will always be right here.” She smiled, “Laying in my bed, ready for my baby to come and tell me about his day every night...how are your friends?” Rosemary lied back, “Tell me about the ones who live in the orphanage, are they well? How about Clay? When did you see him last?” 

“Yesterday, mummy…” George spoke softly and slowly about his day yesterday, about spending it with his best friend. “Clay is wonderful. He’s smart and bright, he reminds me of a brand new golden coin or the sun.” 

Rosemary smiled, “You love him.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Your best friend.”

A knock on the door startled George, he turned to see that it’s Beth. “Prince Georgie, it’s time for you to attend the gala, Wilbur is excited to sit with you at dinner.”

“Mum-”

“I won’t be attending, my love. I don’t feel well, I’ll rest up. Come and see me before bed, yeah?”

“Okay, mum.” George got up and came with Beth down to the large room where they hold galas. 

A grand marble room that can hold a hundred or more people. His father sits on the far end of the room in front of large colorful windows, on a platform that’s about three steps up from the rest of the floor. George was meant to sit with his father, in his own throne...George has only sat on the throne dedicated to him four or five times. They were all for portraits. 

George searched the room for Wilbur, his eyes landing on Phil, who was stood with Geroge’s father and his aunt Charlotte. 

“Georgie!” His cousin Thomas stood by George, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and yanking on it. “Prince Georgie.” Thomas is only five-years-old. 

“Hey, Tommy.” George smiled, leaning down to his cousin. “How are you? Where’s Toby?”

“Tubbo’s with his mummy,” Tommy answered, pointing in the direction of their close family. 

George looked back at Charlotte, noticing that she has a tight grip on her five-year-old’s hand. “What about your mum? Where’s your mum?”

“She said that she’s visiting with Aunt Rosemary.” 

George nodded and smiled, grabbing his cousin’s hand and slowly approaching the rest of his family. The marble room is filled to the brim with socialites, George tried his best not to make eye contact with anyone as he made his way through the crowd of fancy-dressed men and women. 

“Prince Geroge! Look at you! All grown up! Almost thirteen-years-old!” Charlotte smiled. 

“Hello, aunt Charlotte.” 

“It’s my birthday!” Wilbur whined playfully, “I get he’s the prince and all, but come on. Today is about me!” Everyone laughs with him...George loves his family very much. 

They’re wonderful…his aunts and uncle, his cousin Wilbur and the little ones. George wonders how his father is related to these people...but maybe that just what being king does to a person. 

And George is the prince...

No matter how hard he tries to accept this, he may never. George doesn’t know who he is, he’s only twelve-years-old...so he shouldn’t have to. But there are expectations from the prince of Flora that Prince George may never live up to. 

George is still the prince, either way. The one and only. George is the Prince of Flora. His father can think of him as weak all he wants, but George is his only son. His only option to be the next king. His father has to live with that. As does George.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed the second chapter!! thank you for reading!! please feel free to comment i love comments <3 
> 
> ps...i will likely update this every 4-5 days rather than every Thursday, again i still i make no promises lol


	3. swan song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before we get into the next chapter i just wanted to thank everyone for your lovely comments! I've never gotten such wonderful comments on a fic of mine before and it's truly a beautiful experience! all of your comments and kudos are so beyond appreciated and fuel me to keep writing :) <3 thank you all so so so so fricking much! i can't express how thankful i am for all the amazing feedback!!

Snow fell early this year...within a few hours, it would melt. The ground isn’t cold enough for its familiar white blanket. The forest of trees is eerie and colorless without its leaves. 

Prince George had caught a cough five days ago, it’s dry and wheezy, but not a cause for concern. Running through the forest with his friends, toy swords in all of their cold fingers Geoge would try to hide his cough. George and Dream kept a tight grip on each other’s hands, taking cover behind a large rock near a small lake. The lake has a thin veil of ice over it...George eyed a stick, thinking about poking holes in the ice of the lake. 

Dream shushed George, letting go of his gloved hand and peeking over the rock. Dream is younger than George, but he stands taller than the brunette. “Do you see anyone?” George whispered. 

“No...I think we lost them this time.” The boys are playing a game they hunt. It’s normally one against all the others, but that doesn’t feel very fair and so they changed it up this round. “Let’s take a breather.” Dream sat down next to George again and looked at his gloved hands. “Are they real leather?”

“I think so,” George answered, grabbing a stick and breaking it into pieces. 

“Your...birthday is tomorrow.” Dream’s voice is distant like he’s not actually the one speaking. 

George nodded, throwing pieces of the broken stick onto the ice of the lake...the ice is stronger than George thought it was, none of the prices of stick went through the ice, rather they would hit it and slide across to the other side of the lake. 

“George?” Dream asked after the two boys sat in silence for a little too long for comfort. 

“Dream?” George looked back at Dream, who isn’t looking back at him. “Dream?” George reached out and grabbed Dream’s arm. 

Dream looked up at George with a sad face, “I um...do you think that when you get back, we’ll still be friends?” 

“Of course, Dream? We’ll only be sixteen and fifteen.” George answered, “I’m sure it’ll feel like no time passed at all.” George assured. The boy looked down at his gloved hands and got an idea, “Here, I want you to have these.” George slowly took his gloves off from his sweaty hands. “I know you have plenty of my stuff already, but I want you to have these, and every time you see them, think about this conversation, think about today.” George smiled at Dream. 

The blonde boy held the brown leather gloves in his cold hands. “I...thank you, George.”

“I don’t want you to forget about me,” George admitted, breaking eye contact. 

“I don’t think that’s possible...you are the prince after all.”

George went to speak, but a coughing fit stopped him. When it was finished, the preteen cleared his throat and glanced at Dream. “It doesn’t feel that way sometimes...sometimes I just feel like...I don’t even know.” 

Silence hung over the two boys, like icicles threatening to drop to the ground with a sound that isn’t far off from a song. 

Dream reached over, putting his hand on George’s knee to catch his attention. “George?”

“Dream?” George suppressed a cough, no

“I think I know how you feel...you don’t feel like the prince, Georgie. You feel like a great friend to a bunch of poor little orphans.” 

George tried to cover up his emotional tears with a dry laugh. Rolling his eyes and looking away from his friend. “I think you’re right, Dream.”

“Oh Dream! Oh, Geroge! We found you!” Bad shouted from too close for comfort.

“No point in running!” Techno laughed. Techno isn’t one to take their games too seriously, not like Dream can. Techno does, however, love playing Hunter in Manhunt. It gives in a thrill and allows him to practice being better in combat, not that he needs it. Being the best at combat out of all the boys in their friend group. 

“Oh no! Dream!” George screamed as Dream grabbed his wrist and pulled him to run away from their friends hunting them down. Screaming caused George to have another coughing fit...it caused them to get captured and pretend killed by Bad and Technoblade. 

George played with the friends until Annalise called for the boys and told them that they had an hour until sunset...George decided that he should go home so that he can prepare for his early morning. 

“Goodbye, Prince George.” Bad spoke softly as he hugged the boy a year younger than him. “Good luck.” 

George smiled, “Thank you Bad. I’ll miss you.” George hugged more people in these few minutes of farewell than he ever had in his entire life. Little ones would kiss him on the cheek, and the other ones would give a simple hug or handshake, depending on who they are. 

Dream stood at the edge of the wood, waiting to walk Dream back to the castle. Before George approached Dream, a sudden hand landed on his shoulder. 

Technoblade stood with an emotionless expression. Wearing a shirt that George gifted him, “Prince George...I will miss you very much. You’ve been a wonderful friend to all of us, and your gifts mean the world to us all.” Techno was very anxious, not sure how to say goodbye to George. 

“Thank you so much Technoblade. I can’t wait to see you again. I’ll miss you.” George gently pulled Techno into a hug, Techno hugged the prince tightly. When Techno pulled away, he avoided eye contact but was smiling. 

“Goodbye, Prince George!” A little one shouted as George turned away to walk to Dream. George smiled and turned to the group of orphans, waving goodbye. 

“Goodbye, everyone!” 

The walk back to the castle was silent, in a way they had already said goodbye...and goodbye isn’t needed with these two. 

When they got to the woodline of castle grounds, George stopped and turned to Dream. “I’ll um…”

“George, I’ll see you in the morning.” Dream quickly said, grabbing George’s shoulder. 

George smiled, “Okay, I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Maybe postponing the goodbye will make it easier...maybe not? 

The conversation he and Dream had sitting by the lake lingered inside of George for a long time, crowding his brain and seeping into his skin like tea in hot water...the words the two boys exchanged are special, simple but special. They mean something and are important. George knows that he can feel that...but he doesn’t understand it. 

George doesn’t understand what makes Dream so special to him...they’re just friends, close friends...so why does George feel like his chest is collapsing in at the thought of having to leave his best friend behind for three years? Why does it hurt? He’s been preparing his entire life to leave like this, for his Long Winter...yet it hurts. 

Maybe that is inevitable, Dream or no Dream. Leaving was going to hurt, but Dream gives George an excuse for it to hurt. George was able to prepare for leaving his home, his nannies, his youth, his mother...he couldn’t prepare to leave Dream. He didn’t have enough time, or didn’t even think about it, whatever it is…

All George knows is that it hurts. It will hurt for a long time, but not forever. Nothing can hurt forever. Not even leaving the boy you love...or at least, George hopes so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! the next chapter might not be for a little while because i am busy this week, but i will try to get it out as soon as i can! i hope you all enjoyed this chapter! comments and kudos are very appreciated! again, thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me :) <3


	4. thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT PLEASE READ BEFORE READING THE CHAPTER!!! IMPORTANT TRIGGER WARNING! 
> 
> WARNING: TW DEATH! - not super graphic, in my opinion, but it is really sad. if you think i need to give any kind of trigger warning please let me know!!

George woke with the sun on the morning of his thirteenth birthday. A smile rising onto his face as soon as he was fully aware of the world around him. George approached his bedroom windows and pulled the blue curtains back. The sun shined on him happily, as if they were telling him happy birthday. George looked to see Dream and Technoblade standing under his window smiling. 

George held up a finger, telling them he’ll be a moment. George ran out of his bedroom, past Bethany who was approaching his bedroom door. George enters his mother’s bedroom with a smile. “Mummy! Today’s my birthday.” He climbed onto her bed, putting his hand on her cheek and noticing that she’s cold to the touch. 

George looked at the fireplace to see that it’s lit, a small fire roaring. “Mum? Are you all right?” He whispered as he grabbed her cheeks in his hands...he feels so small. 

“Mum...Beth! Beth!” George began to scream for his nanny. “Mum!” He tried shaking her, shouting at her, bouncing harder on the bed...but to no avail. 

George’s mother was announced as dead no less than an hour later by several doctors. George sat in his bedroom, not able to bring himself to cry anymore...but not able to do anything but cry. 

It’s numbness. A cold prickly feeling in his heart. His fingers are so cold it aches, his hair a mess, and unable to dress. The gala for tonight was canceled, the prince and king griefing such a tragic death. 

George entered his mother’s dark cold bedroom. Approaching her bed with staggered, tired steps and crawling into it. Hugging her pillow and beginning to cry again. George doesn’t remember falling asleep. He remembers that he dreamed about his friends. 

“George?” George gasped and sat up quickly. The odd color of eyes trigger even more tears, George threw his arms around the boy to sat over him. “George…”

“My mother.” George gasped for air, pulling away from the blonde, “My mother passed away. She’s gone, and I have to leave tonight...Clay, I-”

“George, it’s okay. I’m right here, it’s all right, you’re all right.” Dream held onto George tightly, hugging his friend as he cried. If they were caught right now, the king would be furious. George couldn’t bring himself to care...to care about anything but this moment. 

When the prince was left completely alone to grieve...Dream showed up, worried as to why his friend never came outside for their last day together for the next three years. 

“You’re not still leaving...are you?”

“I have to, it’s tradition, it’s...I’m the prince.” 

“George, you’re still a person.” 

George dropped his eyes to look down at anything but Dream’s face. “Dream…”

“Your father would still...make you leave?”

“No one’s making me...it’s part of being who I am.”

“Your mother-”

“Dream. Drop it, please…” George sobbed again, “Can we just...be like this, for a moment in time? Before I go, I just need...I need you to hug me.”

Dream said nothing, moving so that he could sit better with George, holding him tightly. George tried to fight off his tears, the best he could...but he isn’t strong enough to fight off this feeling. 

The feeling of...loss. Today he lost so much more than he ever thought possible. He lost his home, his friends, his youth…his mother. The worst part of it all though...is that he just has to live with it. There’s nothing he can do, other than just live with it. Acceptance is healing. How could he ever accept this? 

When George heard his name being called from outside the door, he knew it was time, looking over at Dream. He is sleeping next to him in his mother’s bed. 

“Prince George!” George quickly jumped out of the bed. 

“Dream, get up. You have to leave.”

“What?”

“I have to leave for the long winter...if you get caught you’ll be in serious trouble. Dream you have to go.” George quickly ran to the window and fought with it to open. “You can get out through here, it won’t be difficult.” 

“I’m okay, I can handle it...George?”

“Dream?”

“Good luck...I-ugh.” Dream swallowed, reaching to touch George but deciding not to. “I’ll miss you.” Dream’s voice came out in a whisper, like the wind in trees. 

“I’ll miss you.” George wanted to say more but didn’t have the energy. 

George exited his mother’s bedroom to find Bethany. “Oh, my gods! Prince George! I thought you...never mind my dear, we have to prepare you to leave for the long winter.” 

George nodded, reaching up to hug his nanny. “Beth?”

“Yes?”

“Will you be here when I get back?” The prince asked with a broken voice. 

“Yes, Prince George. I’ll be here, I promise.” 

~

The salt of the sea isn’t hard to miss. A person can feel the salty sea in their body, their eyes sting, their bones shift, their throat tightens. The sea is unmistakable. 

George had grown tired, but couldn’t bring himself to sleep again. Perhaps he’s afraid of falling asleep, perhaps he’s afraid of waking up. The small space of his carriage is both comfortable and uncomfortable. It’s small, safe, and warm, while also being dark and blinding. George’s father didn’t travel with him up north, despite telling his son that he would. Likely because they have to have a proper death ceremony for Queen Rosemary, one that Prince George cannot attend. 

George isn’t sure what to expect, watching the sunrise from the window next to him, curled into a ball with a blanket covering his small being. He has all of today, all of tonight, and a few first hours of the sunrise before they’ll arrive at Winter Castle. They won’t take very many breaks, and George knows he will grow bored. Completely alone with himself. With his mind. 

The memory of finding his mother in the state she was in burned his mind, wishing that he could rub his eyes and force these thoughts and memories away. It’s not that easy though, nothing is. George can only hope that his Long Winter will be good for him. He’s heard a lot of stories about Long Winters, how it’ll drive weaker men to suicide or running away, while with the strong men, it gives them peace and betters their mind and connection to the Gods. 

A bump in the road startled George awake. He didn’t notice that he had fallen asleep, with tired eyes and sore muscles he looked out the window again. Based on where the sun is in the sky, George had slept for fourteen hours. George cleared his throat and searched around for the water and food he was provided with for his two-night journey. 

As he slowly ate and drank, George’s mind landed on someone he hadn’t thought about this entire journey, Dream. 

He wonders about what Dream is doing. Probably playing Manhunt with the other boys at the orphanage, maybe he’s combat training with Techno and Bad. George struggled, but he allowed himself to miss it. A part of him has convinced him that he is not allowed to miss Dream or his home...or his mother...but he does. He misses all of these things and more. That’s okay. George is only human, a human with feeling. Feelings that are complicated and confusing, but feelings nonetheless. 

George can’t try to justify or understand these feelings, all he can do is feel them. Tears border his eyes again as he lays back down, curling into a ball with a blanket. He’s not cold, but he shivers. 

Cousin Wilbur and Uncle Phil are waiting for him, and he’s excited to see them. That excitement doesn’t change the fact that he is afraid, sad, and worried. George didn’t think it was possible to feel every emotion all at once, but here he lays. 

In a bed that he didn’t make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really hope that this chapter wasn't too upsetting to anyone...i know it has very sad and dark undertones. if there is any kind of trigger warning that i misses PLEASE INFORM ME!!
> 
> thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this chapter! i love and appreciate you all so much! thank you again! :)


	5. abandoned castles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: DEATH, ANIMAL DEATH, GRAPHIC IMAGERY, ETC NOT FOR THOSE WHO ARE FEINT OF HEART! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANY WARNINGS!! 
> 
> heyy...heyyy...how yall doing.....
> 
> so fricking sorry for my absence, i went through a lot of bs these last 2 weeks that i don't want to explain but please know that my headspace is a little...meh but i got really inspired to write this and wrote it all in one sitting (its fricking 6,000+ words ffs) also please let me know if i made any spelling or grammar errors, i am dyslexic and struggle with reading/writing sometimes! 
> 
> please enjoy :)

The air smells bitter and cold. Yet familiar to George. Stepping out of the dark carriage and into the mud. Uncle Phil stood in front of George, a smile barely on his face. “Nephew.” 

George didn’t respond for a moment, looking around, noticing that the sky isn’t blue...but a warm-toned gray with cold toned gray clouds. “Uncle Phil…” George tried to speak formally, but his voice cracked. 

The young, frail boy stood before Phil had been broken. For so long Phil wanted to believe that being royal didn’t mean that your spirit was destined to be broken. It truly is a burden that will break the will of anyone, being born into this bloodline. Phil thinks of his son, who’s happy deminer had turned sour recently. 

“Georgie...come here.” Phil opened up his arms to his nephew who stands at only half his height, even at thirteen-years-old. Anyone who didn’t know would mistake the pale brunette as a child. 

George almost ran as he desperately threw his arms around his uncle, hugging his uncle. “Phil…”

“It’s all right, my boy.” Phil comforted the boy, “You’re all right now.” Phil walked George into a cold, barely furnished room with a fireplace that hadn’t been tended to in hours. Phil sat George in a wooden chair and sighed. “George...you listening?”

George nodded slowly, wrapping himself in his fur cloak tighter. 

“All right, son. I’m going to talk you through the next three years in a few simple words. You are strong.”

George looked up at his uncle with a confused expression. 

“It’s got nothing to do with being the prince and future king, it’s got nothing to do with how big your body is. You’ve got a strong mind, my boy. The strongest. You’re smart and kind, strong-willed and confident.”

George disagreed. He’s not strong-willed or confident. 

“You’re not a leader nor a follower.”

“Then what am I?” 

“George, you’re a peacemaker.” 

“A peacemaker?”

“Something that this kingdom hasn’t seen in a very long time.” 

“Wouldn’t a peacemaker be a follower?”

“No, George.” Phil chuckled. “I’m sure your cousin wants to see you…” George sighed in relief. “I’ll fetch the lad...you sit tight.” 

George watched his uncle leave the room, George got up and approached the fireplace, putting a few logs on it and poking at the embers to stop smoldering. He heard the sound of boots at a quick pace on stone, causing George to turn around...when his eyes landed on his cousin, he a little surprised. 

Wilbur had gotten broader in his shoulders, stood a little taller, and had the beginnings of facial hair...he looked like himself...but changed. Like an old book that was left to sit and has obtained some dust on it. 

“Gogy!” Wilbur ran to his cousin and grabbed him in a hug. “I missed you so much.”

George hugged his cousin, trying not to break down like had been the last few days. “Wilbur...I-I missed you too.”

“How is everyone? Dream and Techno? Um, Bad? How are they all?”

“Everyone is well, I saw Dream right before I left…”

“George.”

“I’m fine-”

“I’m so sorry...I heard from my father we got the letter only a few hours ago.” Wilbur grabbed George’s shoulder, pulling him to the chairs, sitting them both down. “I don’t think there is anything I can say…”

George shook his head, “You don’t have to say anything, Will...There isn’t anything to say.” George thought of Dream and laying in bed with him. Holding his friend in his arms, his face tucked away in his neck. There’s a feeling in his stomach and chest whenever he thinks about Dream and what it was like to lay in bed with him and hold him so tightly...George sighed. 

“Wilbur.”

“George?”

“I’m...I think I’m…” George tightly closed his eyes and looked down, “I’m scared.” 

“I know. Long Winter isn’t easy so far...pretty boring, we don’t start certain field works until we’re fourteen, for now, we just tend to fires, clean things...I’ve spent most of my time helping organize the library.” 

George cracked a smile, “That sounds nice…”

“It is, we get quite a bit of free time. You won’t have to do any hard stuff anyway, you’re the prince.”

George sighed and rolled his eyes, “I’m sick of that.”

“Being call the prince?”

“Being the prince.”

Wilbur chuckled, “Yeah, yeah...why don’t we get to work?” 

“Why don’t we.” George chuckled. 

Wilbur walked George through the maze-like halls of the dark-colored brick castle...with every window they passed, George realized that there is a snowstorm outside that doesn’t look like it’s going to let up any time soon. 

~

George and Wilbur spent their day quietly organizing books in the library. Making small talk and jokes here and there, but George enjoyed the silence more. 

The sun began to fall in the sky, “Will? C’mon on loverboy, you skipped dinner again.”

Wilbur got down from his latter, “Hey, Schlatt.” George watched a kid around their age come around the corner of the bookshelves with a platter in his hands. “George this is Schlatt, Schlatt this is my cousin, Prince George.” 

Schlatt laughed, putting the tray down on a cart of dusty books. “Prince George, huh?”

George blushed, embarrassed, and nodded. “Sure am.” 

“You know, my auntie married into the royals a while back.” 

George nodded, “You are noble.” ‘

“A Lord, technically.” Schlatt gloated, “You don’t look very princely, Prince George.”

You don’t look very princely...George wanted to sigh and walk away from this entire interaction. Why do those words make his chest tighten and his temples cramp? “Just George is fine...and I know.” George grabbed some bread from the tray and began to pull it apart, eating it slowly. “I don’t really know what a Prince is meant to look like.”

“I mean, you are handsome as a Prince...but you don’t seem very...stoic or anything.”

Wilbur huffed, “Prince George this, Prince George that...its always about you.” Wilbur teased as he poked George’s shoulder. 

George rolled his eyes, “You ought to try being born of higher status, Cousin. I don’t know what to tell you.” George said sassily as he grabbed more bread. 

Wilbur laughed, “Thank you for bringing us some grub, Schlatt.”

“Yes, it’s appreciated,” George emphasizes, making eye contact with Schlatt. He’s not exactly a small guy. 

“I’m used to it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Wilbur here eat…” Schlatt began to walk away, “I’ll come by to get you when it’s time for bed.” 

“Thank you!” Wilbur called as Schlatt left out of their sight. “We’ve got about an hour before bed. 

The two of them ate the tray of food as they did their task, after a while, they heard footsteps approaching them again. 

“It’s already time for bed?” Wilbur called out, stepping off of a ladder. George looked up from the book he was pretending not to be reading. 

A different guy came around the corner. “What? Oh no, no, I just wanted to let you know that Lord Phil is looking for you.” 

“My father is looking for me?” Wilbur glanced at George, who was holding the book he had been reading to his chest. 

“He’s in his office…”

“Thank you, Connor...we’ll be just a moment.” Wilbur grabbed the book out of George’s hands and put it into his bag. The two of them cleaned up the mess they had left behind and gone on their way to find Phil. 

Wilbur pushed open the heavy wooden door and George stepped inside, finding that the room is quite warm. A dog laying on the ground lifted its head to look up at them. “Father?” Wilbur said as he looked to the left side of the room. 

Phil was stood at a bookshelf near a bay window. “Wilbur, I was hoping that before bed you could show George around. This castle is a nightmare to navigate.”

“That’s why you called us in here? You could’ve sent a note with Connor.” Wilbur said as he approached his father. George stood still, taking in the warmth of the room. He hadn’t noticed how cold his nose and fingers had grown. 

“I actually called you here to see how you were doing...George.” George slowly glanced up at his uncle, still hesitant to allow himself to settle in comfortably into his situation. 

If he allowed comfort, warmth...he might fall apart in the heat. He’ll melt. 

“I’m fine, uncle,” George muttered with a dry throat and salty eyes...he found himself angry. 

“Nephew.” Phil sighed, “Son…” Phil’s hand fell onto George’s shoulder, moving to his neck, squeezing it gently. 

George bit his lip, staring at the ground. “I’ve spent forty-eight hours in tears, Phil. I don’t care to think about this any longer...I don’t care to…” George swallowed, scared of the words that were about the exit his mouth...the feeling Dream’s hands on his shoulders and back felt real, so real George tensed up. 

“George, it’s not good to hold all of this in. It’ll turn you bitter.”

“Maybe I need to be bitter.” George said without thought, “Maybe I need to grow angry and cold...I’m soft and warm, easy to mold and talk down to.” George put his hand over his mouth, wanting to stop talking. “I’m going to be king.” His voice cracked under the stress of those words. 

Wilbur grabbed George’s arm and forced him into a hug. George didn’t cry, but he did hold onto Wilbur as tightly as he could...he misses being a boy. George would give anything to be a boy again. He would give anything to not be here, to have never turned thirteen-years-old. George could wish and hope and pay as much as he wanted to...nothing could change any of this.

“Stop thinking like that, George. You’re just a boy. You’re a person.” Wilbur stressed, talking into George’s ear. “You’re more than a prince who is becoming king. You’re George, you’re Gogy. You’re my best friend and kind to everyone you meet…” 

“Son, you need to stop looking at it with those viewpoints.”

“How?” George asked softly, looking at his uncle, gripping Wilbur’s fur cloak. 

“Well...George let’s start small and simple. Focus on your task for your Long Winter. In your first year, you won’t be doing anything too hard or stressful. You and Will can spend all your time in the library or horseback riding. I want you to find peace and purpose here in the north.” Phil explained, “It won’t be easy, I’m saying that it will be, but it will be easier if you try your best to ride all of this out. If you fight it constantly...you’ll lose that fight. The only way to win against grief is to feel it.” 

George blinked, and hot tears fell down his cold face. “All right.” George mouthed, blinking more and more, crying softly and quietly as his cousin hugged him. 

“George, promise me that you’ll just try your best…”

“I promise.” 

~

George coughed into his hands as he sat on his bed, getting ready for the day. The winter air felt like home these days, his skin had grown even paler and his dark chocolate brown hair hadn’t been cut in half a year. The freckles that used to pepper his skin had faded into his pale skin. 

“We’ve got a newcomer in today.” A tall boy named Ted said to Schlatt as he stood up, his boots on but not tied properly. 

Wilbur coughed as well before he spoke, is a cough spreading? There are a lot of young men who live here, who aren’t’ exactly hygienic about everything they do. “A newcomer?” 

“He’s supposedly from the east.”

“South?” Schlatt questioned. 

“No, Northeast.” Ted answered, “It’s what I’ve heard from Charlie anyway.” 

George glanced at the two empty beds in their room, “Is he going to room in here, you think?”

“Methinks so,” Ted answered the prince with a smile. 

George nodded, grabbing his boots and slowly putting his feet into them. 

“Ted, properly tie your boots, Lord Winter will get pissed.” Wilbur scolded Ted as the two exited the bedroom. George listened to them bicker as they walked down the echoing halls of Winter Castle. 

Schlatt stood up and stretched. “Hurry up, Georgie...you don’t want to miss breakfast.” Schlatt pated George’s shoulder as he walked past him and out of the room. 

George sighed and rubbed his face, putting his fur cloak on and slowly making his way out of the room, not before checking to see if the fire in their room was put out properly or not. As the taller lad made his way through the stone halls, he tried to warm his fingers. Prince George had grown to not hate the cold north so much, but no matter how hard he tries, his fingers never seem to warm up. 

George entered the mess hall, he sat with Wilbur, who sits with Schlatt, who sits with Ted, who sits with Charlie. George grabbed an empty plate and piled on food that’s splayed out across the middle of the tables. Quietly, George listened to his friends as he ate the chilled food. 

“Cold?” Wilbur whispered to George about his food. 

George just shrugged. 

“I can and will take on all of you bitches!” Charlie shouted to the boy at a different table who was laughing. How these people have this type of energy this early in the morning. The sun was barely in the gray sky. 

“George?” George looked up, hearing his name being called. George saw Phil standing in the entryway to the mess hall with a short-ish boy next to him. Phil waved him over. George grabbed his buttered bread and stood up. Wilbur watched George walk away. 

George followed his uncle and the boy into the hallway. “George, this is Benjamin, Ben this is Prince George.”

“Prince George?”

“Prince of Flora,” George answered, “It’s not a big deal…” George looked at Phil.

Phil smiled, “The newest boy shows the newest boy around.” 

“Oh…” George said with a nod. “Well hello, Ben.”

“Hello, Prince George.”

“Just George is fine, thank you...well, this is the mess hall, we have all of our meals here…” George gestured. 

“He’ll be staying with you and Will,” Phil informed as he began to walk away. 

“I’ll show you our room then,” George said as they began to walk. “Um, I’m in there, my cousin Wilbur is in there as well, along with Ted and Schlatt.” 

Benjamin nodded. George looked over to take in the boy’s appearance, he looks young for his age, much like George. With pale blondish-white hair, bright blue eyes, and milky white skin. He and George stand at about the same height, with George a bit taller. While Benjamin had a wider stature. 

“What um...what are they like?” Ben asked with a soft voice. 

“Wilbur is the best, he’s smart and kind. He’ll help you out with anything you might need. Schlatt can be a bit of a dickhead, but he taught me how to properly tie my boots, so he’s not that bad. Ted is a bit distant, to me anyway, but he’s funny and good with horses.” 

Ben smiled, “What’s it like here…” George figures that it’s in his nature to be more soft-spoken...it makes George smile. 

“Not horrible...cold.” George chuckled. 

“I’m used to that,” Ben spoke with a soft giggle as they approached the door to their room. 

“We’re still thirteen so we don’t have to do anything too difficult just yet, tend to animals work in the kitchen, clean the castle, tend to fires and...my cousin and I have been organizing all the books in the library for almost half a year now.”

“Half a year, that’s a long time. Big library?” 

“Sort of, I think we’re just slow workers.” George chuckled, watching Ben put his cream-colored sack down on an empty bed. “A third pair of hands might help.” George offered, “We keep it nice and warm in the library, it has five fireplaces.” 

Ben smiled at George, “That sounds nice...can we grab breakfast first?”

“Of course.”

~

Wilbur parted ways with Schlatt, entering the library to find George tending to a fireplace, and a white-haired boy standing with him. 

“Oh...newbie?” Wilbur asked, pointing at the kid. 

“Yes, I’m Benjamin,” Ben answered as he approached Wilbur with his hand stretched out. 

Wilbur shook his hand, “I’m Wilbur, George’s older cousin.”

Ben nodded and smiled, “I see the family resemblance.”

“Do you? Most people don’t believe that we’re cousins.”

“You both have the same look in your eyes, of cordial.” 

Wilbur raised his eyebrows and smiled, “Thank you, that’s quite kind of you.” 

George stood up from the fireplace, “Are you going up?” George asked, pointing to the second, more open story of the library.

Wilbur nodded, “Please, George do me a favor and don’t spend all day reading, I would like to eventually finish this.” 

George blushed with embarrassment, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Wilby.” 

Wilbur went on his way and George walked Ben to a secluded part of the library. George explained everything to Ben, who seemed to pick everything up quite quickly. George found himself watching Ben as he carefully organized books. At one point, when George came around the corner of a bookshelf, he found Ben sitting on his ladder, reading a book in his lap. 

George smiled, “Taking a break?” 

Ben jumped, looking at George, “Oh…” He smiled, “Yes, sorry.”

“You’re all right, just try not to spend all day reading...like myself.” George chuckled. A warm feeling in his chest and stomach...a feeling that reminded him of an old friend. 

~

George’s heart pounds in his ear, gripping the reigns to his horse so tightly his hands would likely cramp in the morning. He doesn’t care, he has to win!

“I’m catching up Georgie!” Ben called from behind. 

George let out a scream-laugh as he ducked down, basically putting his face in the mane of his black horse. “C’mon girl, you can make it.” He whispered to the horse. George let out a victory scream as he passed the willow tree that marks the finish line of their race. 

“No fair! It’s all because I gave you a head start!” Ben spoke loudly as he laughed, approaching George on his brown and white horse. “Well...congratulations birthday boy.” 

“Thank you very much.” George smiled. Today he is fourteen, today marks one year without his mother. George took in a deep breath, the cool thin air welcomed in his lungs. “Let’s go to the pond, give the girls a break.” 

“Agreed.”

George watched his horse drink from the practically frozen pond. Benjamin sat down under a dead willow tree and took in slow deep breaths. “It’s so hard to breathe so far up north.”

“The air is thin because we’re so high up.”

Ben nodded, George sat down next to him with his back against the dead willow. For a soft moment, the boys sat there silently. 

“Harley, girl,” Ben called to his horse, holding an apple slice. 

“Have anymore for Dream?” George asked. 

“Yeah...you know that’s an odd name for a horse.”

“How so?”

“Well, most horses have like...nature names, Dream is just a bit different, I guess.”

George nodded, “I guess so…” George watched Ben give his horse an apple slice before leaning back on the willow again. “Ben?”

“George.”

“Do you ever think about...romance?”

“Never.”

“Really?”

“No...I had a lot of friends who are girls back home, and even then, I never thought about things like that.”

“I have...sort of, it’s a bit odd. In the ideas of it, it’s never a person, you know? The...person is never actually a person, you know?”

“Person? You don’t mean girl?”

“I guess not? I’ve never looked a girl that way before.”

“Me neither,” Ben responded as he turned to look at George. “I honestly don’t really know how I’m mean to look at girls...how are they any different than boys.”

George smiled as he nodded, “I know! What’s the big deal about them?” He let out a sigh, feeling a strange weight lift from his tense chest and shoulders. “I’m glad you understand.”

“George?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever worry that you’re...not like the other boys?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you ever worried that you’re...homosexual?”

George’s heart almost stopped in his chest...it’s something the other boys had talked about before...being homosexual, but’s a negative thing...George can get that much from it. It’s bad. 

“Why?”

“Well...because homosexual boys are boys who romantically pressure other boys...and like...if a boy is never interested in girls in that way, don’t you think that might mean he’s romantically interested in other boys?’’ 

Dream. George thought of Dream. The boy with green eyes, freckled tan skin, and sand-colored hair. The boy he thinks of every time he feels the warm sun on his skin or goes swimming in a lake. The boy that he is reminded of in everything, from rocks in a forest, to tree climbing and laughing. 

“I’m sorry, George. I shouldn’t have brought any of this up...I didn’t mean to-I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Do you?”

“Do I?”

“Worry that you’re interested in boys?”

Ben hesitated to answer, breaking eye contact with George. 

“Ben. Listen, I...I think maybe.” He said so quietly his voice barely vibrated his throat. 

Ben looked back over at George, “Me too…” Ben finally muttered through his teeth. 

George looked down, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I just...we don’t have to...I don’t know.”

“Do you think that we feel...something?”

“A little bit...there’s also a boy back home who…”

Ben chuckled, “I know what you mean.” 

“Really?”

“Yes.” 

They silently stared at each other. Without any words spoken they both began to understand each other. They both considered and agreed upon a lot of simple yet complex things. They knew that there was a chance that this is all white lies of a fever dream...but maybe, just maybe they can take this leap of faith, a chance on each other. 

~

Phil’s breath of George’s neck made him want to cry. Staring at the deer through the trees. Gray snow gently drifted to the ground from the sky. George’s entire body is tense with dread. His instincts told him to run, or fight, or freeze, do something other than want he is about to do. 

“Don’t see it as an animal...just a target,” Phil spoke gently. George almost yelled at his uncle, knowing that those words wouldn’t help him even in the slightest. George knows that it’s just an animal, it doesn’t matter, this is the circle of life, it’s how things are...so why does it hurt so much?

Slowly, his fingers released and the arrow flew through the air and into the brown animal. George clenched his eyes shut. “Good shot, son,” Phil assured as he squeezed George’s shoulder. 

George didn’t move as his uncle approached the dying animal. “George,” Phil called to him, quickly George followed after the strawberry-blond man with a twisting feeling in his stomach. 

The seeping blood in the snow caused George to feel like he was going to pass out. It moves slowly, like an evil creature in a novel. Spreading outwards from the wound, almost all the way to George’s boots. 

“George.” Phil handed George a knife, forcing it into his ice-cold hands. “I know it’s not easy son, but you’ve got to do this. 

George nodded, approaching the animal with scared, tired eyes. His stomach turned sick and George had to force himself not to vomit up his breakfast...he doesn’t remember doing it, likely blacking it out from his memory.

But the sight of red on his hands caused George’s vision to blur, slumping against a snow-covered tree. 

“You did good, George.”

“Uncle...I think I’m…”

“You’re all right son, just breath,” Phil assured his hands on George’s shoulders. “You’re a strong lad, you did something quite difficult...and you are a wonderful shot with a bow.” 

George nodded, blinking rapidly, hoping it would wake him up. George straightened out his back and he took a step forward towards his uncle. “Can we please just...get this finished with?”

“Of course, George. You’re doing good...you just have to toughen all of this out.” 

George sat in the mess hall with his head buried in his arms over to the tabletop. A hand on his back startled him back into reality.

“How was Gogy’s first hunt?” Wilbur asked as he sat down next to his cousin. Wilbur’s facial hair has begun to look more like a man and his thick curly hair is pulled back. 

“I feel sick.”

“That bad?”

George nodded and put his head back down, but was still facing Wilbur, who was eating. 

“George.” Ben approached them, sitting on the other side of George, “Are you all right?”

“A bit sick,” George answered as he sat up and leaned towards Ben. Ben handed him a cup of water, George slowly drank from it. “I should really eat, but I feel terrible.”

“It was that bad for you, huh?”

George couldn’t get the images out of his head of killing the deer, “I didn’t think it would bother me so badly.”

Ben quietly chewed on his fingernails as he listened to George and Wilbur. 

“Are you going to be all right?”

“I’ll be fine...I think I’m going to go for a ride.” 

“Want me to come along?” Ben offered. 

George shook his head, “You eat, I’ll be back by bedtime…”

George felt hazy as he prepared Dream for their ride...everything about himself felt off and wrong. He didn’t feel human, or like anything around him was real. It was just a deer...why does he feel this way? George allowed his horse to go in any direction she felt as he stared at nothing, his eyes cold and dry...he forced himself to blink and breath, focusing all of his attention on those simple things. 

Looking up, he saw an odd figure through the trees of the forest and turned Dream to go in that direction. As he and the horse approached the dark shape, he began to make out what it is...a castle. An old one, a part of it had fallen apart almost completely. 

How long has this been sitting here like this? Left abandoned, and for what? George stopped Dream once they got to the castle, he got off from her and gave her a treat...approaching the wide-open doors of the castle. George entered and it felt even colder inside of the castle than it does outside. He let out a warm breath into his chilled hands and looked around at the walls. 

Slowly and mindlessly, George wandered through the abandoned castle, looking at the empty rooms...all of the walls are the same, eerily so. Something about the entire castle feels eerie and strange...abandoned like this, to sit alone in time. 

“George!” He gasped as he turned around, seeing Ben running at him. “You had me so worried…” Ben said as he threw his arms around George, hugging him. 

“You scared me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...you’re lucky I found you, a blizzard is starting.”

George gulped, “Really?”

“They say it might last a couple of days...you could’ve been in some serious trouble.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s all right, let’s just go.” George and Ben held hands as they exited the castle...the snow was light, but George could feel deep within himself that it wouldn’t last. George doesn’t mind blizzards, something is comforting and warm about them, oddly enough. 

~

George, Bem, Wilbur, Charlie, Connor, and Ted are all out on a hunt...all of them are fifteen-years-old and finally ‘ready’ in the eyes of Phil to make it out on their own. It’s midsummer, George will be sixteen in less than four months...he doesn’t like to think about it. 

The boys were set up to the West, in a birch forest...the snow had been light this summer, barely any on the muddy ground. They had set up camp and were to be left on their own for five nights. Phil wished them luck and left a few hours ago. 

“Dinner is served!” Charlie announced, riding on his horseback up to the cap. 

Wilbur smiled, “What’d you get?” 

“Four rabbits!” Ted answered for Charlie. The two of them had left only two hours ago, and are already back with enough food for everyone. 

Ben exited his and George’s tent, George had started to boil water not long ago...the fire was giving him trouble. “Do you think we should start a second fire?” He asked. 

“Um…” Wilbur looked at Ted, who shrugged, “Sure, why not…” Quietly the boys did all of their tasks, Ben helping George with his stubborn fire. 

“You know...you’ve always kind of reminded me of fire, George,” Ben spoke softly like he always has. 

George responded with a confused expression. 

“Well, you’re stubborn, and you need to be tended to…”

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

Ben laughed, “You're warm and beautiful…” Ben whispered with a smile. 

George cracked a smile and rolled his eyes, “I told you to shut up.” 

“Yeah, yeah...I’ll shut up.” Ben watched the simmering water, before glancing at George again, “You also remind me of winter.”

“I remind you of both fire and winter?”

“Like a fire in the snow…” George didn’t question him, in a way, he understood what Ben was getting at. “You’re stubborn against the cold air of the winter trying to snuff you out.” 

George hesitated to respond before he was interrupted by Connor, “Dinners ready, you two.” The six boys ate before going to their tents. 

George had fallen asleep pretty much as soon as he lied down under his sleeping bag. Ben stayed up a bit longer, using a flickering candle as a light to read a book George recommended him a couple of weeks ago. Ben had always been a bit of a night owl. 

Three days into the hunting trip, George was doing everything he could to get out of actually hunting. Wilbur, Ben, Ted, and Charlie had left this morning to see if they could get a bigger kill, while Connor and George stayed back to make sure their camp was kept safe. Bears aren’t too common around the castle area because the noise drives them off, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t bears around here that are happy to steal from camps. 

George walked through the birch forest, selecting sticks to use as kindling. The sound of wolves howling in the distance...that made him a bit nervous, wondering if the wolves would be confident enough to come to their camp. He asked Connor about it. 

“Maybe? I don't know much about wolves, I would think they would be timid towards humans.” Connor answered, “Wilbur would know, hopefully, they’ll get back sooner rather than later.” 

George agreed. 

Wilbur and the rest of the boys arrived back with a dead buck in the early morning hours. George avoided helping with the dead deer as much as possible, thankful that the others knew how dead animals came and made him feel faint. He agreed to do everyone else's jobs as they prepared the buck to eat. 

George paused to take a breath, sick of carrying logs around the camp from the same three spots...he felt like he was just doing mindless busy work at this rate. He reached his hand up to push his over-grown hair from his eyes when he heard the sound of something behind the treeline. 

George glanced over, knowing that he heard an animal of some kind...but what kind is what matters. A rabbit? A deer? A bear? A wolf? 

“Will?” George called for his cousin, his body told him to make some kind of noise, hoping it would scare off whatever was behind the treeline. 

“Yeah?” Wilbur asked as he approached his cousin. 

“I heard wolves earlier…”

“Oh? Um...how far away?”

“They sounded kind of far, they were howling, I was also a bit far from the camp when I heard them.”

“Oh, it should be fine...if they were too close and horses would be freaking out.” 

“Would they?”

“Of course, horses hate wolves.” 

That night, George had stayed up a bit later with Ben, chatting about the book. When George had finally fallen asleep, he was dreaming about being back at home...but the castle he grew up in had sort of mended with the abandoned castle near the willow forest. 

Everything about the dream felt strange and almost like a nightmare, George forced himself to wake up once it was starting to scare him, blinking away and sitting himself up slightly. As he woke up, he heard shouting. 

“Ben!”

“Wilbur! Grab your bow!”

“Get it off!” 

A horse screaming forced George onto his feet, not even putting his boots on or anything. Running out of his tent to be met with a large wolf, he fell onto the ground and began to back away from the large black creature. 

“George!”

“Prince George!” 

Two arrows hit the wolf, causing it to fall onto the ground, blood spilling from it and onto the wet ground. George quickly leaned over the throw up onto the ground. 

“George!” Ben grabbed George by his arm, helping him onto his feet, “George are you-” George knew before Ben even screamed, before he was pulled onto the ground...two wolves had begun to attack Ben. George’s body reacted before he could hear Ben scream and cry as he entered the tent again, grabbing a knife and exiting the tent…

George had stabbed one wolf enough to kill it, while the other had been shot with three arrows from both Wilbur and Ted. Connor and Charlie were able to chase off the wolves attacking the horses...in total the six boys had killed five wolves, one horse was severely injured, two had minor injuries, and Ben wasn’t doing well at all. 

“We need to get him to Winter Castle!” George shouted at Wilbur, tears falling from his eyes. 

“I know, I know, George, I know,” Wilbur spoke in a panic, his chest and throat tight. George and Wilbur got Ben onto Wilbur’s horse, Fawn, and Wilbur quickly explained the quickest way for George to get Ben back to the castle.

“Good luck, Prince George,” Wilbur whispered, squeezing his cousin’s wrist. 

George nodded as he commanded the horse to take off in a run...it felt like forever, yet he could barely remember it before they got to Winter Castle. Ben wasn’t awake, but George could hear him trying to breathe. When they arrived back to Winter Castle, a group of boys and men were on them, getting Ben off from the horse and having him carried to the nearest medic. 

George was helped off of the horse by Schlatt and a boy whose name he doesn’t know. George doesn’t remember being sat down in the mess hall near the fire, but that’s where he sits, with a hot tea in his hands and blanket draped over him.

Schlatt put a plate of food down in front of him, “Your uncle is on his way to get the other boys...what happened?”

“Wolves,” George answered, forcing himself to blink and breathe, knowing that it would help. “How is Ben?”

“In critical condition.” Schlatt answered with a flat voice, “He um...he looked rough.”

“It was…” George shook his head and looked down, “It was horrible.” 

Schlatt nodded, “Do you want to head to bed?” 

“Yes,”

George wasn’t aware that he fell asleep. When Wilbur entered the room though, he was pulled out of his sleep by his cousin grabbing his sleeping body and holding it. “I’m so sorry George.”

“W-Will...Wilbur what? Are you all right?” George asked in his tired state. 

“I’m so sorry, George.”

“Wilbur?”

“Ben didn’t make it, George. I’m sorry.” 

~

George rode Dream through the willow forest, able to smell blizzard in the air. Tomorrow he’ll be sixteen, and he’ll be leaving to go back home. A home that isn’t a home, a place that he left behind one way and he will return to it another way.

Without his mother, to stand by his father’s side. Barely able to recognize himself these days, unsure of who he is...the prince who is someday to be king. A King. 

George looked up at the abandoned castle, getting off from his horse, landing in the powdery snow. An urge overtook him, an urge that felt uncontrollable...he listened to it. George stood on his right foot and began to take off his left boot, when he placed his barefoot in the snow, his entire body flinched and he felt awake. Awake. A feeling that is far away most days, a feeling that doesn’t even feel real. Quickly, George took off his right boot and put his boots on the ground, standing upright. 

With a deep breath, George ran up the snow-covered hill towards the gray castle. When he got to the entrance, George’s entire body felt alive and aware. For months now, George has felt closer to the corpse than a man...which is what he was meant to be by the end of his Long Winter. 

George stepped into the castle, his bare feet curling against the frozen stone floor. Mindlessly, he began to wander through it again. George comes to the abandoned castle quite often, feeling drawn to it... as it calls to him. Maybe it’s because he’s royal, and it's a castle...that’s stupid. 

George sighed, becoming overly aware of the cold stinging numbness of his bare feet...is he trying to catch his death? Probably...it’s not like he feels alive as it is, might as well be dead. George sat on the stone floor of the castle as he put his boots back on, they didn’t feel much warmer...but he felt normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to preface that Benjamin is a completely original character who is not based on any cc's!! i just wanted to let you all know! i also wanted to apologize again for taking so long to update 
> 
> thank you so much for reading it is so appreciated! i want to give a huge personal shoutout and thanks to everyone who has been so supportive of my writing and for being so patient with me and updates!! i am so grateful for all of you <3 :)


	6. golden melancholy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...i may or may not have gotten a huge wave of motivation and wrote like 5 chapters of this in 2 days...expect frequent update for the next like week (I'll post a chapter every 3-4 days)
> 
> thank you for reading as well, there are no trigger warnings for this chapter that i can think of...but please let me know if i missed any. also, let me know if there are any spelling or grammar errors, i edited this chapter like crazy but I'm dyslexic and straight-up cant read sometimes lol 
> 
> again, please enjoy, thank you for reading :) <3

George had lost weight and hadn’t grown tall...he was older but no wiser. King John watched from outside the castle doors as his dark-haired son stepped down from the carriage and into the dry dirt. The south of Flora has been experiencing a drought for almost two months now. 

King John smirked, “My son.”

Prince George gulped as he approached his father, noticing that there were a group of six people standing with his father. George didn’t recognize any of them and avoided their eyes. 

“Father.” George’s voice isn’t his own, it’s not George’s voice, it’s Prince George’s. His accent forced him to be more southern, and his tone forced him to be calm. 

King John nodded his head as a greeting, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder, “I am eager for you to be under me, my son. I’m sure your Long Winter has changed you for the better.” George’s body felt a wave of panic and dread overcome him, wishing that he could turn around and go back. Somehow, Castle Winter is better than this. “I will train you well, you will be a strong, firm king.” 

Strong and Firm are not words George would use to describe himself. “I am eager as well, Father,” George responded with a soft, casual voice, trying not to show that he is dreading every next moment for the rest of his entire life. 

King John took in a deep breath, “Today you will be attending a council meeting with me.”

George closed his eyes, dread isn’t a strong enough word to describe how he feels. It’s overwhelming and discouraging...George wants to just lay down in bed and never stand up again. George considered trying to find a way out of attending the council meeting but said nothing as he followed his father. His group of people following as well while also giving the father and son room to give the illusion that they’re not being followed. 

George was a little surprised when he realized his father was walking him to his old bedroom, down the hallway from his mother’s old room. George put his hand on the door handle and held his breath, pushing the door open to see that his room was relatively similar but fit for a teenage boy rather than a child. 

“Get dressed, I will be back to fetch you for the meeting in…” John glanced at a short, round man stood behind him.

“Two hours, my King.” 

“Two hours, son.” John nodded his head goodbye and closed the white door to his son’s bedroom. 

George is left alone in a bedroom too warm for his taste. George wanted to lay down in his bed until his father came back to fetch him, but instead, he approached the bathroom and noticed it hadn’t changed at all. By himself, George drew a bath and sunbathed in the window for a moment. As he stepped into the hot water, George’s body tingled and for a moment felt unnatural. He had gotten so used to the cold. 

George breathed in the steam coming off from his bath, every muscle and bone in his body relaxing in the hot water. George felt...good. Not exactly happy or joyful, but he didn’t feel as terrible as he has felt for so long. He knew that this feeling would be temporary, but that’s okay because he feels okay in the now. 

George dressed in clothes he found in his closet, he was surprised that they fit. George found it odd that he’s dressing and bathing himself, when he was younger he was under the understanding that these weren’t things the royals did for themselves. 

His bedroom door creaked as it opened, catching the dark chocolate-haired boy’s attention. A woman with two long ginger braids stood there in a long dark dress and a curious expression on her face. George’s body moved before he could say anything at all, approaching the woman in a hurry.

“Nanny Beth,” He hugged her, putting his arms around her shoulders and placing his face in her neck. 

Beth chuckled softly, putting one hand on his lower back and the other in his hair, she’s always hugged him like this. “I missed you so much, Georgie.”

“I missed you, I um...how are you?” He asked as he separated himself from her, missing the warmth of the hug. 

Beth smiled as she tossed one of her long thick braids over her shoulder, “I am well, a mother myself.”

George smiled, “Really? A little one of your own, what’s their name?”

“Fredrick, but everyone calls him Freddie.”

For the first time in God’s know how long, George felt comfortable and at home. His childhood nanny talked his ears off about her year and half old son, how he has ginger hair just like his mother, and how she won’t be working for the royal family much longer because the man she’s determined to marry runs a successful bakery on the outskirts of the city. 

It was cut short by a short, round man entering the room and clearing his throat. “Prince George Henry, your father is requesting you now.”

George fought off the urge to flinch at being called George Henry, unsure of why he has a disdain for it he stood up, “Pardon me, Beth.” 

Beth looked embarrassed and nodded, avoiding eye contact with the prince and exiting the bedroom quietly. 

“Prince George.”

“Yes, sir.” George nodded, swallowing, “I’m attentive.” George spoke with a dry mouth and heavy limbs. 

The short, round man waved for the prince to follow him. George quietly and quickly did, his thoughts racing around his mind. George’s entire body tensed up when his father came into his sights, in proper dressing gowns and a huddle of people around him. 

“Son.”

“Father…”

“Are you...prepared.”

George nodded as he made eye contact with his father. George is reminded that despite looking more like his mother, he and his father have the exact same eye color. George, because of inheriting more of his mother’s genetics, doesn’t look much like the others in the royal family. Most of the men in the royal family are relatively tall, other than uncle Phil. They all have lighter features as well, with light-colored hair and eyes. George’s father though, King John’s eyes are dark brown, almost black in dim lights. 

The father and son enter the council room, to discover that they are the first ones there. George is careful of where he sits, next to his father and looking around the oddly small room. Wall to wall is bookshelves, there are no windows and a single fireplace on the far wall away from the door. 

“The other councilmen should be here soon. I want you to stay quiet during the meeting, understand?”

George nodded as he looked over at his father. 

“They won’t respect your word, son. You’re not what they think of a prince.” 

George knew what his father means, he can tell that his father is saying it to protect Geoge in an odd way...but he could at least be gentler about it. 

Men began to pile into the room, most of them are silver and white-haired with saggy face skin, while some seem to be the new generations of Lords and Nobles who are taking over their father’s positions. 

As the meeting began, George had to force himself to pay attention to what the men around him are speaking about. He noticed that his fingers are numb from the cold, but noticed that the fire is roaring and the other men don’t seem cold. 

“A famine has plagued my city, Your Honor.” George didn’t quite know why they called his father ‘Your Honor’ but knew better than to ask questions. “I don’t know how to fix the issue, and I am unsure of where the root problem is.” The man speaking is thin himself, and only a bit taller than George with patchy dark facial hair and tired blue eyes. 

King John hesitated to respond, before taking in a breath, “I don’t know how you would like me to help.”

“Your aid would be greatly appreciated.”

“I have nothing to aid with.” George knew this to be untrue, the reason why this man’s city is going through a famine is likely due to drought and they are farming people. 

Most cities of Flora were built on farming. Including the Kingdom city, the royal family originated from ‘blessed wheat farmers’ whose crops were apparently never affected by drought, plague, and even a large wildfire the supposedly occurred a few generations ago. George was always told that he and his bloodline are blessed directly from the gods to have good fortune. 

The Kingdom city hadn’t been affected by famine before, never in the recorded history has it ever happened. George knows for the fact that his father could help this young lord and his people. King John has just decided not to, for a reason that George didn’t know. 

The young lord sat down without another word and an older man with long ginger hair stood up. “Your Honor, my economy has been greatly hurt by the rise in taxes from the last five years. Most of my people cannot afford to feed their families and have had to sell important valuables, including their farms and other forms of business.” 

King John released a harsh breath, “Lord Lukas, we have discussed the tax rise multiple times now. The tax rise will not change until my city is able to go without them.”

“I wanted to discuss means of fixing the issue, we can lower taxes for those who cannot afford it and rise it for those who can, Your Honor.”

“Lord Lukas, sit down.” King John spoke harshly and George had to pretend not to flinch. “If that’s all we have to discuss today, I would like to return to my responsibilities.” King John behaves as if the council meeting is a waste of his time despite being the one to call the meetings as constantly as they held. 

George and his father stayed seated until all of the Lords and Nobles had left the room. “Prince George.”

“Father.”

“These men don’t know how to solve their own problems, they seek out my approval because they are weaker than myself. Do you understand?”

George hesitated, his eyes landed on his father’s tired face. George nodded and swallowed, “I understand, Father.” George assured his father. 

~

The sun is golden in the mornings, with a white-blue sky. The clouds are always fluffy and warm looking, remind George of a soft blanket that used to lay on his mother’s bed. 

His mother. Something George was avoiding as if it was a deadly illness that if he ever thought of it, it would kill him. Having to rush past her bedroom door with his eyes closed anytime he left the private space of his silver and navy bedroom. 

George’s horse Dream wasn’t able to come with him back to the kingdom, having to stay back at Winter Castle. The Prince approached the horse stables by himself in clothes that are not fit for autumn in the south. 

A young man stared at the prince with a questioning gaze, “You need something?” He asked, his voice cracking as he said ‘you.’

George nodded, “I’m looking to raise a horse.” 

“We’ve got two newborns, both boys.” George followed the young man further into a barn of the castle stables and was presented with two foals. One is mostly white with splatter-like brown spots. The other is smaller, with a brownish-red body and a white diamond between its dark eyes. “This one was born sick and is small for its age.” The boy said about the one with the diamond. “Its mum died.” 

George smiled as he grabbed the rope of the horse, “Thank you, young man.” 

Raising Diamond brought George a lot of purposes, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to ride him for another 3-4 years, but that’s not really why he wanted a horse. He misses Dream and misses having a friend. George tries to fight off the memory of Benjamin like if he thinks about the deceased boy, it’ll burn him. 

Most days, George’s father doesn’t request him, leaving George alone to do whatever he wants in his lonely castle. George was hesitant to revisit the past, but on a day that was particularly cold, he bundled up and began to walk through the forest. He knew where he was going, it was like his body remembered exactly how to get there without George even having to think about it.

The sound of the shallow creek that was once a river was surprising to the prince, seeing the large house that once homed very many children. George however, didn’t have to investigate to know that no one lives here any longer. He could tell by the unkempt yard, and the front door being left ajar. 

Melancholy came in waves as he walked away from the orphanage, all of them are gone. Likely they had all grown up and moved away for jobs and similar things. They’re not quite adults, like George, but they’re old enough to have adult responsibilities. George wondered about the woman who housed and cared for the children, he wondered if perhaps the reason it shut down has to do with her, did something get in the way of her passion? 

George doesn’t like to think about these things too much, knowing that if he does he won’t be able to stop. George often feels like he can’t control his own thoughts like he can’t control himself. 

Every time George attends a council meeting, he begins to think more and more about everything. Thinking about what things will be like when he is King, will he be like his father? Will he be able to undo what his father has done? Will he fix the economy in the kingdom as a whole, or be able to fix any kind of famine? 

George can’t help but be honest with himself, able to tell that he won’t be a very good King. He’s too weak to be king. 

In the first year of being under his father, George learned a lot about taking on the role of king. Learning that his father truly is as bitter and tenacious as he believed him to be, if not worse. Unwilling to help others, and only seeking out things for the betterment of himself.

George came to the conclusion that his father is selfish, and that he doesn’t want to be like him. Hoping that despite being weak, fragile, and looked down on, George will be a better king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really hope you enjoyed the chapter! thank you for reading! I'll try my best to reply to all comments and i happily take feedback and constructive criticism...i don't respond well to rude comments tho so chose your words carefully :)


	7. a prince’s curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: DEATH
> 
> this chapter takes palace 7 years after the last chapter! In the last chapter, George was 16-17, in this chapter George is celebrating his 23rd birthday! I know it’s a large time skip and I was originally going to write all 7 of these years, but I don’t want to make you guys wait months and months before we finally get to the love story lmao
> 
> We know the drill, if anyone notices any typos, please feel free to point them out. I am dyslexic and i struggle with reading/editing my writing!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

George had grown accustomed to his life as the Prince soon to be King. Not disliking it, but finding it boring and lonely. His cousin Wilbur came to visit George for every birthday but that was it, having his matters to attend to as he takes his father’s place as Lord. 

Wilbur came late at night for George’s twenty-third birthday, entering the prince’s bedroom as he was asleep and startled him awake. Like they were children again, the young men jumped on the prince’s bed and giggled to themselves. 

In the morning, George was woken up by his chambermaid and a tailor, discovering the prince and his cousin had fallen asleep over the covers in the prince’s bed. 

“You’re lucky neither of you caught a cold, or today would be a very different occasion.” The chambermaid scolded them. The young men didn’t care that much but understood her concern, it is growing cold outside. 

The tailor dressed the young men in fancy clothing for the gala and dinner they would be attending today for George’s twenty-third birthday. Their outfits were somewhat matching, having similar silhouettes and ostentatiousness to them. George is bathed in shades of blue and silvers, with iron metals as decoration. Wilbur is bathed in warm yellows with bronze metals as decoration. 

“Prince George, your crown.” The tailor exposed the crown to the prince, George took it placed it on top of his head, “Your escort will be here soon to bring you down.” 

George nodded and watched as the chambermaid and tailor left the two young men alone. George glanced at Wilbur, whose curled hair is cut short after having not been cut in a long while. 

“Escort?”

“One of my father’s...rules,” George answered as he broke eye contact. “He’s made quite a few of those as of late…”

“George?” Wilbur leaned into George’s eyesight, “Is everything all right with the King?” 

George hesitated to answer, knowing that he is meant to keep it secret. His father, King Johnathan is meant to be looked at as strong and opposing. “My father’s mental state began declining about a year ago, he grows paranoid. I’m not sure where it’s coming from, he’s one of the most beloved men in our world, he’s protected and cared for.” 

“He doesn’t allow you to leave your bedroom without an escort?” 

“Well...when he knows when I’m leaving my bedroom, yes,” George answered with a mischievous smile. 

Wilbur chuckled, “George, may I ask you a question?”

“About?”

“Your Long Winter? I know you had it hard...does it still affect you, at times?”

George didn’t answer for a moment, considering the question. “I have nightmares, and I feel cold all the time...even after all these years.” 

Wilbur nodded, “I’m having a similar experience. The night of the um, of the wolves.”

“It’s the only night I have nightmares about, I dream about having to kill animals quite often...but with the wolves, it’s like I’m there again, I’m feeling it all again.” 

“Do you think it’ll ever go away?”

George shook his head, taking in a deep breath, “I don’t know, I hope so. I honestly don’t think it will. It’s been seven years.” 

“If it was going to stop...it would have by now?”

George only nodded. After a while of silence, George’s fingers grew numb from a nonexistent cold. “Wilbur?”

Wilbur looked up at George, “Yes?”

“It’s been ten years, you know?”

Since his mother. “Yes, I know.” Wilbur nodded. 

George singly nodded again, standing up and approaching the fireplace. George sat on the floor in front of it and reached his hands out to it. The fire is tired, but still aflame. George’s fingers tingled as they warmed up from the tired fire. 

A knock on the door caught both of the young men’s fleeting attention. George glanced out the window to see that they had been waiting for an hour. George opened the door to his bedroom, a knight waiting outside of it. The aura of the knight is annoyed and tired, but not distressed in any way. 

“C’mon, Will.” George straightened his back, knowing that he had to walk ‘proper.’ 

“I’m coming,” Wilbur said, not picking up his pace at all, fixing the clasp of his golden-colored shawl. “You’re not in any kind of hurry,”

“Yes, but I am impatient.” George agreed, pointing up at his cousin, who stands significantly taller and wider than George. 

Wilbur chuckled and rolled his eyes, then glancing at the knight. “Knight? Since when does your father have a nack for those.”

“Since he learned the knightly rules or commandment things they do...they take some kind of oath and my father liked the sound of it,” George answered with a soft, calm tone. His smile had dropped and he glanced at the knight himself. “Most of them are forbidden to speak to me.” 

Wilbur gave George a confused expression, “Why?”

“I don’t know. My father forbids a lot of people from interacting with me.”

Wilbur said nothing, but George could tell that learning this information had upset Wilbur. The knight stopped the two young men outside the door of the gala room, the same one that George and Wilbur had been in so many years ago when they had celebrated Wilbur’s Long Winter. 

“Please welcome Prince George and Lord Wilbur!” King John announced as the door opened. George and Wilbur glanced at each other before nervously looking over the large crowd of people celebrating them. 

George was quickly ushered to sit between his father and Wilbur, with plates of food placed in front of him. King John, the smell of whisky on his breath grabbed his son’s shoulder and pulled his close, “Happy Birthday, my boy.” 

George smiled at his drunken father, “Thank you, father.” 

The night was relatively uneventful, George only got up from his seat at the dinner table once, to use the restroom. When he sat back down, a man with a young girl approached the prince and king. 

“King Johnathan, Prince George…” The man bowed. 

“Lord Tyrus.” King John greeted. 

“This is my daughter, a young noble girl...beautiful, isn’t she?” The young girl bowed, glancing at George. When she noticed George was looking back at her she quickly looked at the ground. “She is unmarried. Her name is Aria Grace, she is nineteen-years-old.” George found it odd that her father mentioned her marriage status before her name and age. George understood the situation presented before him and knew that he would not be marrying this girl. 

“Nineteen and unmarried?” King John pointed out. 

George said nothing, glancing at Wilbur who appeared bored, looking at the crowd of men and women dancing to the slow music. 

“We’ve been waiting for an opportunity to meet with the prince.” Lord Tyrus looked at George, who felt a chill of anxiety run up his spine. 

George carefully cleared his throat, and sat ‘properly.’ “You’re a beautiful young woman, Lady Aria Grace.” George felt like he might blackout, he hated being put on the spot like this. “However, I’m not interested in marriage quite yet.” 

Aria held a smile and nodded her head slightly, she looked like she was about to speak before her father cut her off, “Well when you do decide to get married, Aria might still be eligible.” Aria closed her eyes in annoyance, but before any more interactions could occur, Lord Tyrus grabbed his daughter’s arm and pulled her away. 

“Her father seemed like he was the one who was rejected, not her.” Wilbur chuckled to George. 

“Not interested in marriage? You uninterested in sex or something, son?” John asked, a little too loudly for George’s liking. 

George wanted to bang his head on the table as he turned to look at his father. “That’s not-I just would like to meet someone on my own, rather than it be arraigned…” George explained. 

“Well, you know you can’t marry any wench. She has to be of high status, George.” 

George rolled his eyes, “That’s not true, father.”

King John gave George a look of confusion, that was quickly shifting to anger. “I wouldn’t let you marry any woman, George. I have to approve of her.”

George wanted to cry, knowing that there will probably come a day where he will fall for...a man. He will fall in love with a man, a great one too, and because of his father, he won’t be able to be with that man. 

“Yes, Father.”

Wilbur reached over and grabbed George’s wrist, squeezing it with assurance. George glanced at Wilbur and smiled weakly, pretending that there aren’t tears in his eyes. Wilbur isn’t blind or stupid, and he cares about George. George never told Wilbur that he’s homosexual, but Wilbur knew that George is unlike other boys in that way. 

At the end of the night, George’s father called a knight to escort the young men to their rooms. “You are to tend to Wilbur at all hours, escort him to wherever he wishes to go.” King John said to the knight. 

George entered his room after saying a soft goodnight to Wilbur and imminently began to strip out of his clothing that had grown even more and more uncomfortable with every minute he was at his birthday celebration. 

Once he was changed into pajamas for the night, he tended to his fire and fought with the thoughts inside his head. Laying in his silk sheets in a warm bedroom, George hated his life. 

This life that he was born into seems lavish and lucky, he is the prince. Soon to be king. George hated the idea of the king more than anything in this world. He hates that his father is king just as much. Maybe his family isn’t actually meant for this role, maybe they’re just lucky or well prepared for misfortune. They’re not very holy. A Holy Prince wouldn’t be cursed. 

George fell asleep with those thoughts at the front of his mind, but he did not dream. He did, however, wake up to someone entering his bedroom. No light flows in through the glass of the windows. 

“Prince George.” His father’s right hand, a short round man named Edmund. 

“Edmund?”

“Come with me, quickly now,” George quickly slipped shoes on and followed Edmund out of his bedroom. 

George was still partially asleep but woke up once he noticed that they were going down. “Edmund? Where are we going?”

“We’re hiding you in the dungeons.” 

“Why?” George could tell by the look on Edmund’s face...he’s been here before, in this position. Ten years ago. George’s throat began to close with sobs as he clenches his eyes tightly. 

Edmund said nothing, walking George into a cell of the dungeons, as Edmund exited, Wilbur and the knight that was appointed to him came into view. “Stay here,” Edmund told them, closing the cell door but not locking it. 

George didn’t hesitate to hug his cousin, the two of them awkwardly standing in the cell, waiting for something to potentially happen. “I think something happened with my father,” George admitted. 

Wilbur didn’t respond for a moment, he seemed like he was holding his breath. “George…” Wilbur pulled away from the hug, but kept a tight hold on George’s shoulders, Wilbur wanted to say more. But couldn’t. George’s face is tired but young. Two things that shouldn’t coincide. “George. If something happened to your father, you know what that means...right?” 

“I’m the King.” George quickly spoke, it was word-vomit. “I’m well aware, Will.” 

Wilbur nodded, looking down, and dropped his hands from his cousin’s shoulders. 

The two young men eventually sat down on the ground in the cold hay, laying close to each other in an attempt to fall back asleep. As George was barely awake, they heard the clicking of footsteps. 

“Lord Wilbur...Prince George.” A man spoke, his voice is familiar yet new. George sat up to see a knight, he was a higher status knight based on his armor and crest carved into the chest plate. “It’s safe for you to return to your rooms.”

“May we room together?” Wilbur quickly asked, grabbing George’s arm to help him off the ground. 

The knight stayed silent for a moment, George wished he could see his face under the helmet. “You may…in the Prince’s room?”

“Yes,” George answered for them as the two boys followed the knight. 

“I would like to apologize to you two for having to stay in the dungeons, it was the safest place for you to be.” George felt his nerve ignite with anxiety, it was forbidden by his father for a knight to speak to George this much, it’s an unnecessary conversation. 

“Is my father all right?” George asked in a panic, reached his hand out to grab the knight’s arm. The knight dodged the prince’s touch and turned to look at him. 

“Prince George, there is still fridge information in the air...you will get confirmation on your father’s state by sunrise.” The knight answered. 

George hated that. He felt anger, he was angry. “I’m the prince! Tell me if something happened to my father. Right now.” George demanded. 

The knight froze for a moment. This only made George angrier. “My Prince.” The knight spoke softly, “I am not able to give you that information. I understand your anger, I will bring Edmund to you to answer your questions as soon as possible.” The knight explained. 

George sighed, “Thank you.” He spoke quietly, following the knight. 

When Wilbur and George got to the prince’s bedroom, the knight stopped as they approached the door. “Prince George.” The knight called out. 

George turned to the knight with a questioning expression, “Yes?”

“I will fetch Edmund.” 

“Thank you…”

“Sir Clay.”

“Thank you, Sir Clay.” 

George knew in his soul who the knight is, the blond boy with green eyes...but George was too focused on all the possibilities of what happened to his father to think about that. To think about the boy from his childhood who changed who he was as a person. 

The thought of something happening to his father scared George deeply to his core. He didn’t love his father, nor did he hate him. He just couldn’t picture life without him, George can’t also picture much of a life with his father still around. George has no idea how to feel about his father, or how he does feel...he just knows that he can’t lose him now, not tonight. 

After a while, the sun began to rise. George sits quietly in a chair in front of the unlit fireplace. Wilbur had gotten into George’s bed hours ago to sleep. The fire had gone out hours ago and the room grows colder and colder...George didn’t notice. 

A knock on the door woke Wilbur up and barely elicited a reaction from George. After a moment, George stood up and approached the door, opening it. Edmund stood there in a change of clothing, looking just as exhausted as the prince, if not more so. Behind Edmund stood a man with shaved hair and a bleak expression. 

Edmund gulped and dropped onto one knee before the prince. “King George.”

George stumbled back slightly, all of the blood in his body rushing to his head and his toes and fingers grew numb with fear. George wanted to run, to start running, and to never, ever stop. 

“King Geroge.” Suddenly, George was being sat on his bed by Edmund and Wilbur. “Are you all right.”

“He’s gone?” George asked, not able to truly find his voice. 

The man with a shaved head nodded, leaning down to meet eye to eye with the prince. The king. “My King. your father was found on the floor of his bedroom, alive but with multiple stab wounds.” George felt the burn of vomit in his throat, he could picture the sight as clearly as he could picture the night with the wolves. He felt like he was there. “The doctors and surgeons of the royal family did their best to attempt to keep your father alive...but he bled out only two hours ago.” 

George’s body reacted quickly, throwing himself off the bed and trying to find anywhere appropriate to vomit, finding an empty bucket in his bathroom. “George.” Wilbur entered, leaning down next to his cousin.

“I’m all right.”

The man and Edumnd waited for their king to exit the bathroom. The king and the lord exited the bathroom slowly, George sat back down on his bed. “Are you well, my king?” The man asked.

George barely nodded, staring at the ground. 

“We have determined that it would be best for you to be accompanied by a knight of your choice.”

“Sir Clay.” George didn’t register at first what he said, not until he noticed Wilbur’s expression. Which was one of both questions yet knowing. 

Edmund and the man didn’t have reactions. “My name is H, by the way. I’m a detective.”

George nodded. “It’s nice to meet with you, H.”

“Sir Clay will accompany you, as a means of preventing this again. Within the next few days, you will be moved into your father’s old bedroom…” H waited for George to react, but found that George was completely mentally checked out of the conversation. “We’ll leave you to rest, King...Lord Wilbur would you like to stay with the king or return to your room.” 

“I’ll stay with George,” Wilbur answered, approaching the bed to lay back down in it. 

George and Wilbur went to sleep without any words exchanged. They were exhausted and neither were mentally able to stay awake any longer. 

George woke up because the sun shines in his eyes, he turned his head over and yawned. As George began to fall back asleep, he sensed that there was something off. This feeling woke him up, he opened his eyes to see that he is alone in his bed. George sat up, wondering where Wilbur’s gone. 

“Good morning, King George.” George blinked at the knight sat on a chair at the end of his bed. 

“Good morning...Sir Clay…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the slowburn has caught fire my friends! dream is finally properly here! i know it's taken forever! 
> 
> i really hope you enjoyed reading! i appreciate comments and kudos so fricking much (please don't feel obligated!). the next chapter should be out sometime this upcoming weekend! i am also having a friend of mine proofread this for me, so there should be fewer typos now, but please inform me if you find any :)
> 
> again! thank you so so so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed this chapter! :) <3


	8. wise and observant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda important note! my pc has been giving me trouble recently so I'm gonna take it to get looked at by a professional on monday, so it might be a hot minute before the next chapter update! other than that, there are no notes!
> 
> if you spot any typos please let me know, this chapter is edited but i am bad at the editing process lol

“Good morning, King George.” George blinked at the knight sat on a chair at the end of his bed. 

“Good morning...Sir Clay…” George spoke with a strained voice and half-closed eyes, staring at the knight. Sir Clay said nothing, making it impossible to even get an inkling as to what he might be thinking. George never thought of himself as someone who sought out the facial expressions of others...but knowing that Clay has a face under that helmet and is using it to emote and George can’t see it might just drive the king insane. The King. 

“Would you like me to leave you alone to get prepared for the day?” Sir Clay asked, the tone in his voice calm...almost comforting. 

George took in a soft breath and nodded. George watched the helmeted man exit his bedroom as slowly as physically possible. George placed his feet on the ground with the click of his bedroom door closing. George did what he did every morning, changing out of pajamas and into clothes that’ll keep him warm. 

After a while, once George was finished, a knock came from his bedroom door. He opened it to find Clay, Wilbur, H, Edmund, and a chambermaid waiting. “Good morning.” George finally said as he opened the door enough for all four men to pile into his room.

The chambermaid placed a breakfast platter on a table, pouring water for the king and handing it to him. George hesitantly took it and gently smiled at the young-ish girl. 

“How are you feeling this morning?” Wilbur asked, putting a hand on George’s arm. 

George stopped himself from shrugging, “I’m not well, nor am I unwell.” George was still struggling to find his voice. “I’m grieving,” George spoke clearly as he looked up at his cousin. 

“The entire country is to be grieving soon.” Edmund stated, “As your first act as King...you are to inform the people of your father’s sudden and tragic death.” 

George wanted to protest this, but didn’t, leaning back in his seat and glancing at the untouched food. He hated for it to go to waste, he caught the chambermaid’s attention. “Young Lady.”

“Your Honor?”

“King George, please...any of this that is uneaten, do not waste. Please and thank you, my Lady.” 

The chambermaid smiled and nodded, going back to making the king’s bed. “As you were saying, Edmund.”

“You are to prepare a speech today, and tomorrow morning, right after sunrise you will speak to your people.” 

“My people.” George whispered to himself, “How is it that I’ll do this, exactly?”

“Your father did it by standing on the main balcony that is in the front of the castle, we will have a large group of citizens gather in the courtyard, they will be the first to hear the news...in the next seven days, the entire country will know.” 

George nodded, “Fair enough, my speech...what requirements does it have?”

“Do not indicate that your father’s death was a result of a crime or that it was violent or painful...we don’t want to scuff the investigation.” H answered. 

“Investigation?”

“We have determined that your father’s death is a result of murder, and we’re actively trying to find the killer.” H responded. “But the public can’t know this...we don’t want to even imagine the response they’ll have.” 

George nodded and glanced at Sir Clay, who stands at the large stained glass window, looking over everyone in the room. George wishes he could see his face...he can feel it in his bones that the man behind the helmet is his childhood friend, but he can’t be for sure. 

“Today, your only goal as King is to write your speech to the people, informing them of the death of their former king...your inauguration will be soon.” Edmund began to explain, “Because all of this is so short notice, we had to send out word to your family last night and they likely won’t receive the news for a few more days,” 

George thought of his Uncle Phil, who still mentors young men at Winter Castle. “Our family…” George looked at Wilbur, “Will when was it you were meant to leave?”

Wilbur sighed, “I’ve extended my stay by three more days, but that’s all I can do...I have to return home eventually to tend to my city, George.”

George nodded, “It’s all right Wilbur, I’ll be all right.” George smiled at his cousin, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. 

Edmund cleared his throat, “Well, if that would be all...we all have our own business to attend to.” 

Everyone but Wilbur and Sir Clay left the room. George sighed and put his head down on the table where his untouched breakfast once lied. “King George, I noticed that you did not eat...would you like to eat at all today or no?”

“I’ll let you know if I get hungry,” George answered, not picking his head up. “Thank you.” He added after not getting a response. 

Wilbur cleared his throat, “How do you want to start your speech.”

“Can I just, ‘whoop, your old king, my father died...have a great time everybody.’ Or is that inappropriate?” 

“What I think is inappropriate is making jokes about your father’s gruesome murder.” Wilbur said with a chuckle, “I see you’re responding to this well...when your mother and Benjamin passed you were...a different person.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m handling this well,” George responded. “I don’t understand.”

“What?”

“The way I feel about all of this, I was distraught about my father dying, I thought of Ben and the wolves. I could feel, smell, taste the blood of it...I could see it so clearly. My father wasn’t my favorite person, if I’m honest I didn’t even like him.” George heard Clay move around the room but didn’t lookup. “He was my father and the king, I loved him...and I hated him.”

“Your father was a less than…likable man.” Wilbur agreed. “He was insufferable at times even...but he was still your father and it’s in your nature to love him. I understand.”

“You have a great relationship with your father, Will...Phil is more of a father to me than King John ever was.” George picked his head up and looked at Wilbur, “My father was angry, bitter, and disliked most things. He…” George stopped himself. “He was a King.” 

Wilbur softly sighed, standing up from the table and approaching the desk, grabbing paper and a quill, “That’s how we’ll start.” 

“What?”

“We’ll start the speech by saying ‘My father was a King.’ And move on from there.”

George nodded and cracked into a smile, “All right Wilbur. My father was King.” 

“A stoic and...what kind of King?”

“Bitter.”

“George.”

“How about...noble?”

“Ah yes, let’s lie.” Wilbur joked but wrote it down anyway. 

The two young men continued to write the speech for a few more hours until eventually, they both became hungry. Sir Clay left to fetch them something to eat, once Wilbur was finished with his meal, Wilbur left to attend to his meaningless task. 

Sir Clay watched George clean up the mess he and his cousin made in silence, which annoyed George. “Is there something you would like to say, Sir Clay?”

“No, my King,” Clay answered with a monotone voice, sounding bored. 

George chewed on the inside of his cheek, “Do you have to do whatever I say?” He asked, looking at the suit of armor. 

“Yes, my King.” Clay answered, “I am however my own individual, and I am more than capable of saying no to something I don’t want to do.” 

George smiled, nodding slightly. “Will you remove your helmet?” 

“No, my King.”

George rolled his eyes in annoyance and chuckled, approaching the call system on the wall that is used to get the attention of a chambermaid, he pulled on the string twice and approached his closet. 

“What are you doing, my King?”

“I’m going on a horse ride. You have to join me, yes?”

“Yes, my King.”

“Perfect.” 

George stood in the stables, preparing Diamond to ride. Diamond is a well-trained horse, but his personality grew mischievous over the years. George had been struggling to get his horse to listen but didn’t let himself get frustrated. 

Sir Clay approached with a blonde and white horse with him. His horse had a white diamond between their eyes as well. “Are you ready, my King?” 

George smiled, finally able to get his horse saddled, “One moment.” 

“I can wait.” 

“You say that like you have much of a choice,” George responded without thinking, he then choked on a laugh, “Sorry, you do have a choice,” George said as he looked at the suit of armor. Sir Clay said nothing in response. A habit that the knight has that George didn’t appreciate. 

The two young men mounted their horses. Sir Clay allowed George to lead the way into the forest, the same forest that George played in with the orphans. It’s a beautiful oak and spruce forest with many small lakes and active wildlife. 

When George comes into the forest, he feels warm and at home. It’s one of the only places in his world that feels familiar. George couldn’t help but think about Sir Clay, his instincts tell him that it’s Dream, his childhood friend. 

“I played in these woods a lot as a kid,” George said after a long while of silence. 

“As did I, lots of children did.” Sir Clay responded. 

George glanced at him, and his horse. “Is it uncomfortable to ride a horse in armor?”

“I’ve trained for many years to be able to do it comfortably.” 

“I see…” George hated this mundane conversation. “I had a childhood friend when I was ten named Clay, I never figured it was a common name.” 

“Neither did I.” 

George sighed, figuring that Sir Clay isn’t his childhood friend...that boy and this man seem like completely different people. This man is distant and...cold. Dream was...sunshine and summertime. 

George leads Sir Clay to a lake, getting off Diamond and leading him to the water to drink. Clay did the same with his horse. 

“What’s his name?” Clay asked about Diamond. 

“Diamond, yours?”

“Her name is Spirit.” 

George smiled, “That’s a good name for a horse.”

Sir Clay didn’t seem to react, it was hard to tell because of the helmet. “She’s got a lot of it, Spirit that is.” 

George felt warm, hearing that Clay does have a little bit of personality. “My childhood friend, Clay...he had a nickname.” George heard Sir Clay shift next to him, “He asked everyone to call him Dream.” 

Sir Clay wanted to respond, George could tell...but the knight stayed silent. 

“That’s dumb.” George chuckled to himself, leaning down to put his hand in the cold water, “Is it freezing temperatures yet?”

“Not yet, my King...you know, King George, you’re permitted to call me whatever you please, you don’t have to call me Sir Clay.”

George narrowed his eyes, turning to look at the knight, who was standing far away, leaning against a spruce tree. “What do you mean?” 

“Your friend, his nickname was Dream, you may call me that if it would make you feel more comfortable….I notice how tense you are around me, I’m here for comfort, my King.” 

George decided not to respond, despite wanting to. He stood up and began to tend to Diamond, giving him treats and cleaning him off with a brush he packed. 

King George and Sir Clay stayed at the small lake for a while, before Sir Clay warned George that the day would eventually end and he still had a speech to finish. George half-heartedly agrees and they return to the castle. 

Sitting in the library, George notices his aunt Kathrine...a woman whose son left for Winter Castle almost three years ago, her husband died almost two years ago. George’s father had demanded his younger sister come and live with him until her son Thomas returned from his Long Winter. 

“Hello Auntie,” George spoke gently as he sat with her. 

The woman jumped at her nephew, “King George.”

“Just George is fine, Auntie.” 

The light-haired woman sighed, “Are you all right, my dear?” 

George watched Sir Clay move from one side of the library to the other to stand closer to George while trying to go unnoticed. “I’m...doing the best I can in these times.” He answered. 

“You’ve faced a lot of hardship, even for a Flora Prince.” She said, “The men of this family always have it hard, you know.” George didn’t respond, observing his aunt’s face, finding that she looks similar to his father. Kathrine and Phil are the closest in age, having been born only eighteen months apart. “My older brothers both had difficult Long Winters, they almost died...did you know?”

George shook his head, “I-I didn’t.”

“When I had heard about the wolves with you and Will...I was terrified to send Tom there.” George could picture his cousin Thomas clear as day. “Phil and John had something similar happen with a bear, it was the two of them and one of their friends...Phil almost died and their friend lost his life to the monster...John had nightmares for years about it.” 

The King opened his mouth, only to close it again. “I didn’t know that...does it happen often in our family.”

“With almost every generation, my father, my grandfather...my great-grandfather had the worst of it. They all had near-death experiences, they all lost friends. The men of this family have something that follows them.” George gave his aunt a confused expression, “Death, Georgie.” 

George swallowed, blinking as he thought of the wolves...he thought of his mother. Benjamin’s face is one that George doesn’t remember, but he does remember everything about him, his laugh, his smell, his eyes...his screams.

George sighed, forcing himself to look at his aunt’s face. “Thank you for telling me this, Auntie.”

Kathrine smiled gently at her nephew, “I thought that you ought to know...before you had to figure it out the hard way.” 

As George finished his speech he couldn’t stop thinking about what his aunt said to him. Her words were real and true, his father told him that she’s a crazy woman who rambles about the losses in her life...but that’s not the case at all. Kathrine is wise and observed her family closely, she understands. Kathrine noticed a pattern that the pattern itself couldn’t notice. George was left astounded by this brief interaction with Kathrine. George’s love for women has always been complicated, given that he can’t love them in the way that most men do, but he still loves them. Women are wise and observant by nature, they’re built for strength and endurance. They prove this to the king time and time again, from his mother, his nannies, the girls from the orphanage, and his aunts. 

George knew what his speech would be about, it would be able what Katherine said. It would be a warning to future generations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this chapter!!! i might not be able to get around to replying to comments right away because I'm gonna be busy, but comments and kudos are always super appreciated! thank you for reading <3 it means so much to me :)


	9. at peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things i wanted to address before we get into this chapter :) 
> 
> ~ I rewrote this chapter almost 3 times! I was struggling with how i wanted to format it!  
> ~ This chapter is partially through dream’s perspective, i wanted to answer some questions I’ve been getting narratively and the best way to do that was through dreams pov  
> ~ I broke up the speech in this chapter into a couple of paragraphs to make it easier to read, despite the fact that in any other writing it would just be one big paragraph!   
> ~ I plan on taking a short break (like a week to two weeks) away from writing it, because i more or less wrote like 4-5 chapters in one sitting a couple of weeks back and since then i haven’t felt *inspired* to write as of late, so im gonna wait for the inspo to hit!  
> ~ I might be late to comments because I don’t actively check ao3 often and I haven’t between getting emails like i normally do, so if i miss your comment or im late to responding, i wanted to apologize in advance! 
> 
> As always, if you find a typo, feel free to let me know. Have fun, i hope you enjoyed this chapter :)

Dream woke up to something unfamiliar. His body hurts and his head is pounding with a migraine. He groaned and realized that his helmet is still on and he had been sleeping upright for what was probably hours. 

Out of instinct, Dream removed his helmet and took in his surroundings. He’s sat on the floor, in the dark hallway, leaning on the door of the King’s bedroom. Dream couldn’t bring himself to move for a while, sitting in the silent dark and thinking about the situation he’s fallen into. He didn’t choose to be the King’s Knight, the King chose that for him...he had asked for Dream by name. Sir Clay. 

Finally, Dream stood up, helmet in hand, and silently entered the King’s bedroom. The frail royal sleeps in his silk sheets with a distressed face. Dream considered taking his armor off and laying in the bed with his childhood friend...a boy that seemed so different yet familiar. 

The last time Dream saw him, George was distraught with tears, a thirteen-year-old boy that could've been mistaken for nine or ten. Wailing for the loss of his mother and clutching his best friend’s shirt. Dream sighed, grabbing the silk blanket and mindlessly throwing it over the brunette. 

Dream cleared his throat quietly and exited the bedroom, slowly making his way to the knight’s rooms, where he and the other knights took turns sleeping. He enters the room he always sleeps in to find Sapnap putting his armor on, Ant and Velvet asleep, and Bad changing out of his armor. 

“Your royal highness.” Sapnap teased, smiling. 

“You getting up?”

“I just woke him up.”

“Guard the king until sunrise, I need sleep.”

“Ain't you mean to sleep in the same room as him?” Sapnap questioned, watching Dream throw his helmet to the side and hastily taking his armor off. 

Dream shrugged with a sigh, “Nowhere to sleep, he’s still in his childhood bedroom...it’s not like the king’s room.” 

“There’s a knight suite off from the king’s room, right?” Bad asked, putting his chest plate on the ground near his bed. 

“They call it something stupid, but yeah.” Dream answered, his pants nearly off. 

Sapnap had a brief coughing fit before asking, “What’s he like?”

“George?”

“George, The King…are they the same person?” Sapnap’s question is an odd one, but it made sense to Dream. 

Dream nodded briefly, “I think so...George’s heart is heavy. Sounds like something bad happened while he was up north all those years back that he and Lord Wilbur ain’t ever got over.” 

“Sounds like that going up north thing is tough shit.” Sapnap responded, “I thought it was some like...vacation those spoiled brats got to go on…”

“George isn’t much of a brat. He can have an attitude and he’s got a...sense of humor, but he honestly just seems like a troubled person.” Dream spoke softly, noticing that Ant was shifting in his sleep. Ant and Velvet were close in their childhood, they never really told anyone they were dating, but it became pretty obvious to anyone with working eyes. 

The two young men had all fallen quiet for a while, as Sapnap grabbed his helmet he asked, “George had that speech today, right?”

“That’s why I need to be by his side by sunrise.” 

“Right, I’ll wake you up then.” 

Dream didn’t feel very well rested after his short sleep, but he couldn’t let himself dwell on it as he got ready. When he woke, it was only himself and Sapnap in the room. Sapnap was quick to leave after waking Dream up. 

As Dream approached the King’s bedroom, he noticed that H was waiting outside the door. “H?”

“Sir Clay. You’re not with King George?” 

“No, I took a couple of hours to rest, I had another Knight watching over him. Do you need to speak with him?”

H nodded, “I would prefer it if we got the speech done and over within the next three hours.”

Dream nodded from under his helmet, “I’ll wake the King up by myself, I’ll have him out to you in an hour?”

H smiled, “Thank you, Sir Clay.” 

Dream entered the King’s bedroom, expecting him to be asleep in his silk sheets. King George however, sits in a chair by the large stained glass window. “My King, are you all right?” 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Are you nervous about today?” George didn’t answer. “H and you are to meet in an hour, you should get ready, my King.” 

George stood up from the chair and approached the fireplace, tending to the fire. Dream’s concluded that when George is anxious, or unsure, he’ll ‘tend’ to the fireplace...something that was probably instilled in him while he was up north. 

George is...petite. Not standing at the tallest, with a slim frame. His skin is pale and fragile appearing. Like if he was scrapped with a stick it would easily draw blood. Dream is curious about the King. He wants to talk to him, he wants to befriend him. 

Dream’s experience with the old king was...negative to say the least. King John was a domineering, bitter, spiteful man who went particularly hard on the knights. Dream had heard horror stories about the King for many years, and then he started to work for him. Dream was 21-years-old when he began working for the King, the Prince was here but rarely seen by the knights. 

The first time Dream had seen George was only a few months ago, George was reading in the library and the King was demanding knights to be by George’s side at every moment of every day, but they were forbidden to speak with him unless necessary. Dream was unsure on how to feel about the prince at the time, concerned he would have turned into a brat...but he just seemed sad, both then and now. 

George exited his closet. “Dream?” 

Dream was shocked for a moment, not expecting George to call him by that nickname. “My King?”

“You’re allowed to call me George...just George is okay.” The King informed the Knight. 

Dream smiled softly from behind the helmet...knowing that the young men before him truly are the same boy from his childhood in every way shape and form. 

“Do you not like being My King?” Dream was surprised after those words left his mouth. Is he really flirting with the king? His King? 

George choked on a laugh, his face turning slightly pink. “I didn’t…” George cleared his throat, “You said that I can call you whatever would make me comfortable...I want that to be fair. I want both of us to be comfortable, to be relaxed, and at peace around each other. I can sense that you’re tense around me, I want you to trust me as much as I trust you.” 

“I do trust you...George, my King. I just worry for you is all.”

“Worry?”

Dream couldn’t respond for a moment. “You’ve got a meeting with H, my King.”

George nodded with a soft smile, “All right, Dream.” 

Dream walked George to H’s study, it was quiet and peaceful. The golden glow of the morning sun made the castle feel a lot more delightful than it had felt lately...King John’s passing is sad, but it also brings forth the new king. A sign of hope, in a bittersweet light. 

H was sitting at his desk, writing in a book with a feather quill. “Oh, King George.” H smiled, “Have you prepared your speech for today?” 

“I have,” George held the two pieces of paper in his hand. “Would you like to read it?” 

H nodded as George handed him the papers, “Take a seat?” H offered as he leaned back in his chair and began to read the speech at a slow pace. 

George gestured for Dream to sit next to him, the two young men sat down. In quiet, they waited for H to finish reading the speech George and Wilbur had written. George carefully watched H’s face, looking for any kind of reaction to his speech. H didn’t make very many reactions, but George could pick up on his microexpressions and he seemed impressed with the speech. 

“Well done, King George.” 

Dream glanced at George, watching a slow smile growing on his face. “I’m glad you like it, Will and I put a lot of effort into it.” 

H smiled as well, “Our first step today would be...preparing you to look presentable in front of the people. We’ll get your father’s tailor to dress you for today.” 

George’s smile faltered slightly but didn’t disappear. “All right.” Dream watched him swallow. An odd habit of George’s, it didn’t indicate any kind of emotion. It was just something he did. 

George and Dream returned to George’s bedroom and waited patiently for the tailor to knock on the door. In their wait, Dream fetched George something to eat. As George ate, a knock came. 

“Come in!” George called, finishing off his cup of water. 

Edmund and a tall thin man entered the room. “King George, this is your father’s tailor...are you ready to be dressed?”

George cleared his throat, “I am...D-Sir Clay, may you fetch me more water?”

Dream nodded, curious as to why he didn’t call him Dream. Dream left the room to have the water pitcher filled. When Dream returned, Edmund was blabbing to George about stuff Dream didn’t care about. George stood in front of a clean mirror, shirtless and awkward. 

Dream poured George a drink and handed it to him. “My mother always dressed me in blues and silvers…” George said to the tailor, “Thank you, Dream.” George said without thinking, glancing at the suit of armor. 

“Dream?” Edmund questioned. Looking at George with a questioning facial expression. 

George stammered for a moment, blinking rapidly. “Ugh, it’s just a nickname.” George smiled weakly. 

Edmund raised an eyebrow, “Don’t grow attached to your help, King George.” 

With those words, both Dream and George froze. A wave of...confusion and surprise hitting the young men, like jumping into the freezing water of the lake they swam in as kids. 

George swallowed back his emotions and gave Edmund a stern gaze, “Understood, Edmund.” It was obvious to everyone in the room that George’s entire demeanor shifted from somewhat positive to completely negative. 

The room became silent after that, the tailor finished dressing George as quickly as he could to escape the cold, tense room. As the tailor exited the room, Dream took in George’s appearance. It reminded him of George’s birthday gala only a few nights ago. Classy bathes in silvers and iron. He’s mostly dressed in white though, with accents of an off blue, almost purple color. George looked like what he is, Royal. 

Dream thought of that night, thought of how nervous George seemed...his father talking too loudly while downing as much wine as he could handle. Wilbur was there as well and seemed much different than he was as a child, but contrary to his cousin. Wilbur had become a man...George had just grown up. 

Edmund cleared his throat and faced George, but wouldn’t meet his brown eyes. “Are you ready to face the people, King George?”

George took a moment to answer, “Give me a moment, Sir Clay and I will meet you outside.” Edmund nodded, eyeing Dream and exiting the room. “I wanted to apologize to you for what Edmund said…” George spoke softly, not looking at Dream. 

“It’s not your fault, George…” Dream realized he called the King by his first name, “My King.” He corrected quickly. 

George was smiling through, turning to look at Dream. “Would you ever take your helmet off for me?” George asked suddenly. 

Dream’s stomach flipped and his heart dropped at the thought of that. Dream frowned from behind his helmet. “Maybe...someday...My King.” 

George responded with a concerned expression. “I’m sorry...if asking to take your helmet off makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop asking.” 

“I would appreciate that.” Dream admitted with a quiet voice. 

George took a breath, “You can tell me. If something is making you uncomfortable. I’ll stop any behavior you don’t like. I’m…” George stopped himself with a sigh. 

Dream smiled to himself. “You’re not your father?”

George didn’t respond, but that was enough to confirm what Dream had asked. The two young men made their way out of the bedroom, to be met with H and Edmund. 

“You’re prepared?” Edmund asked, making eye contact with the king.

George nodded and put on a smile, “As prepared as possible...let’s break the news. I’m ready to have a mourning kingdom.” Dream a little surprised to hear George say that, but he understood what George was saying by it. 

George carefully stepped onto a rounded balcony, as he approached the railing of it...with every step he saw an even larger crowd of people. The entire courtyard was filled with people, young to old, pale to dark, sad to happy…

Dream stood closest to George on the balcony, in case he would need protection from anything or even everything. The faint whispers from the people in the courtyard caused Dream to fall more on edge, watching George as closely as possible. 

George loudly cleared his throat, indicating he was about to start speaking. 

“Hello, my people, my name is George Henry, your...Prince.” George took in a breath and glanced down at the speech he had memories sat on the lectern. He wet his lips and tried not to gulp, the faces of the people before him melting together...they didn’t feel human, despite being as human as people can get. 

“I am here to inform you all of some mournful and somber news, my father, your king. King John, very sadly, tragically, and traumatically passed away one day ago.” George paused, able to hear the muffled shock of the people...under him. Under him?

George took in another deep breath, trying desperately to calm his nerves. “With the passing of my father, King John...I am to take on the role of King soon. My inauguration will likely be in the coming months at the latest. My heart, mind, and prayers are with every single one of you. I have faced a lot of death and hardship in my life despite my position as Prince, soon to be King.” George explained with tears in his eyes. 

It was becoming more difficult to speak as George did his best to continue. “I hope I can follow suit in my father’s footsteps and be just as great, if not better as your King. I wish to honor you all, the gods, and my family in this journey I am about to take. Hopefully with all of you by my side.” George looked up from the paper and at the people surrounding him, able to take in individual faces better now...he feels like he’s hovering in the air.

“My family has had it both easy and quite difficult in the past, it’s rumored that our bloodline is cursed, if that is the case, I will do everything in my royal power to break it.” As King George spoke, he began to feel more grounded, at home with himself. He truly believes the words that are exiting his mouth. 

George paused a moment, clearing his throat as quietly as possible. “I will be a...strong, brave, smart, and noble, King. That is not only a promise but an obligation. Thank you all, very much for your time. I wish you all the best, and for the odds to be in our favor as a kingdom.” George smiled, making temporary eye contact with as many people as he could, “Your soon-to-be King...George Henry.” 

With that, George grabbed the papers from the lectern and turned around to face Edmund, H, and Dream, who rushed him back inside off from the balcony and closed the door. George wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the people...but he hadn’t anticipated them being so quiet and melancholy. 

“You were fantastic, King George.” H informed the young man, putting a hand on his shaking shoulder, “Your nerves are shot.” He pointed out. 

George nodded, “I’m an anxious man, H.” He admitted to the older man. 

H smiled gently, “You did good, son.” 

There was something about being called ‘son’ that was so many things to George. Unfamiliar, welcomed, uneasy...it reminded him of both King John and Uncle Phil, the only father figures George ever had that mattered...George smiled at H. 

“My King.” Dream grabbed George’s elbows from behind him, getting George’s full attention. “Are you all right?”

“I am, Sir...Dream.” George’s eyes landed on Edmund, who said nothing but made a displeased face. “I...is there anything else I can attend to at the moment?” George asked Edmund

Edmund grinned, one that was both pleased and somewhat mischievous. “No, young King...nothing at all. You have the next couple of weeks off. Your inauguration will be in about four to five weeks, just enough time for word to spread, have a mourning period, and for your family to arrive for the celebration.”

George was thankful, glancing at the suit of armor still stood behind him, holding his arms. “Let’s...wait, Edmund?”

“Yes, George?”

“When is my father’s funeral?”

“We will have the gathering itself after your inauguration, but we’ll be burying his body in the royal family’s crypt in…” Edmund looked to H. 

H hesitated for a moment, thinking to himself. “We will have the body ready to be buried in...at the most a week.”

George nodded, “Good, good, I would like to attend the burying ceremony, if possible.”

“Of course, King George. I will have that arraigned as soon as possible. Why don’t you and Sir...Dream relax for a few days. I know that you need, young King.” Edmund smiled as he spoke, clearly doing his best to adjust to his new king. 

“Thank you, Edmund.” 

Dream and George returned to George’s bedroom. George is finally left with please of mind. Maybe everything will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER!! COMMENTS AND KUDOS ARE MORE THAN APPRECIATED!!

**Author's Note:**

> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated :) <3
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME!!


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